


La légende éternelle

by fallintosanity (yopumpkinhead)



Series: A Bridge Once Broken [5]
Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies), Wakfu
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama, F/M, Iron Man 3 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-25 11:53:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 47
Words: 119,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yopumpkinhead/pseuds/fallintosanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years after the Chitauri attack on Earth and the Infinity War on Asgard, things have been looking up for the members of the Avengers Initiative. They've (mostly) got a handle on being superheroes, no one's tried to destroy or take over the world with mysterious ancient artifacts for five whole months, and Thor's been a lot more pleasant to be around since he made up with his renegade brother. </p><p>Then the Bifrost opens, and a call for help sends the Avengers into action once more...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_Mais un jour, une autre civilisation nous attaqua. Ils convoitaient notre science magique. Aucune negociation n’était possible._

But one day, another civilization attacked us. They coveted our magic science. No negotiation was possible.

 

_Leur seul but était la destruction. Notre monde était menacé de disparition._

Their only goal was destruction. Our world was threatened with extinction.

 

_Nous lutions pour notre survie._

We fought for our survival.

 

_La seule solution..._

The only solution...

 

_était la fuite._

was to flee.

 

*    *    *

_“Where is it?”_

_He laughs. He can feel the grating of bone in his chest – the being had not been gentle when it grabbed him – but he laughs anyway. “I don’t know,” he says._

_“You said you do,” the creature growls. “Tell me.” The weapon in its hand glows an ugly orange._

_He thinks of his friends, lying bleeding on the floor where they’d been felled by that weapon, and he cannot deny the fear that curls in his gut. He tries to crush it, calling on the fury which has carried him this far. “My brother has it,” he says, and his voice is defiant._

_“Where is he?”_

_“Out of your reach,” he says. “Somewhere far away from here, and even I do not know how to get there.” He smiles fiercely. He can taste blood in his mouth, on his teeth._

_“WHERE?”_

_“I don’t know,” he says, and laughs again. He thinks he might die here, and he looks forward to the fight. “I cannot tell you.”_

_The being rears back, studying him with eyes that glow the same violent orange as its weapon. Fear pushes back against the rage and he holds his breath._

_Then the being raises its weapon and points it at his head. Its metal face is fixed, unable to show emotion, but he can still feel the disgust which radiates from the creature. Its weapon activates with an unnatural hum, and its says coldly, "Then you will die."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter after a long weekend to whet your appetite. Almost exactly one year after the first chapter of J'entre dans la legende arrived on AO3, we begin a new epic adventure of love, loss, and brotherhood. Hold on to your hats, it's going to be wild!


	2. Asgard Calls for Aid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I really need your help."  
> - _Iron Man_

Six AM board meetings with the Stark Industries Europe division were very high on Tony’s list of least-favorite things to do, in large part because six AM was way too early for the stiff drink he needed to get him through the corporate bullshit (and Pepper wouldn’t buy his argument that if he stayed up through the night before, it was _late_ , not _early_ ). Still, he’d managed not only to be on the video conference on time, in an unwrinkled suit and tie, but also to thoroughly impress the Europe board with a demonstration of his improved Starkphone tailored for the EU market. Pepper’s proud smile, from where she sat with the board members on the other side of the video screen, had been enough to make the early morning worth it.

Unfortunately, the three cups of coffee Tony had drunk in place of whiskey meant that he was way too wired to go back to sleep after the meeting ended just after eight AM. Bruce wasn’t awake yet; he had stayed in the lab when Tony had caved to Jarvis’s increasingly-strict warnings last night and gone to bed. So Tony traded the suit for jeans and a T-shirt, settled on the couch in the tower’s observatory, and called up the design diagrams on the holoscreen.

They were working on a much-improved prototype of the portal device they’d created three years ago with Doctor Jane Foster, to send the Avengers to Asgard to fight the mad titan Thanos. The original device, according to Jane, had been destroyed only minutes after successfully transporting the Avengers: the gathered energies had imploded in much the same fashion as the Tesseract’s energies had destroyed one of SHIELD’s bases when Loki first used it to come to Earth. While Jane had managed to escape with some of the monitoring data, the actual device had been reduced to an iridescent, misshapen lump of glass and metal in the middle of a sixty-foot-wide crater. Since then, Jane had been working almost nonstop to rebuild the device in a way that didn’t require impossible amounts of either promethium or power, as well as to reverse-engineer the various subtle changes Loki had made to her formulae.

She’d sent Tony a draft blueprint last week, asking for his opinion with some less-than-subtle complaints that SHIELD bureaucracy was dragging its feet on getting her the parts she needed to build a functional prototype and a little thing like this would probably be nothing to someone of Tony’s resources, but poor little government scientists were stuck waiting for budget renewals and parts orders and lab space. Tony had immediately forwarded the blueprint to the Starkphone he’d given Bruce. The phone was almost never turned on because Bruce still spent most of his time in hiding and didn’t want to risk being tracked, but it was most reliable way Tony had of reaching him. Two days later, he’d received a text that said only, _I’ll be at Sohag Int’l tomorrow_.

They had already completed several late nights’ worth of work, and now Tony flipped through Bruce’s annotations to the diagram to see how much further he’d gotten last night after Tony went to bed. Deep in concentration, he barely noticed the swirl of rich blue light on the helicopter pad outside the window that meant the Bifrost was opening; he knew that Thor knew he was welcome to just walk in. It was a little odd for Thor to come to Earth less than a month before the anniversary of the Infinity War – usually he was too busy to visit – but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d tried to escape the terrible duties of party planning. It wasn’t until Jarvis said, “Sir, we have a visitor,” that Tony paused in his mental recalculation of a Machian spacetime curve.

“Yeah...” he said dryly. “I think you’ve met Thor before, haven’t you? Big guy, red cape, magic hammer—”

“It isn’t Thor,” Jarvis said, with a hint of reproach.

Tony’s head snapped up and he squinted out the window into the morning sunlight. Of course it was Thor, who else would it—

It wasn’t Thor.

The man was smaller than Thor, with a wiry fencer’s build mostly hidden under a bulky, flamboyant fur coat and leather armor. His blond hair was cut short, his moustache and beard trimmed in a suspiciously Errol Flynn-like style, and he clutched a narrow saber in one hand. But Tony hardly processed any of that, because most of the man’s upper arm was just… missing, a smoking, oozing crater running from his elbow to his shoulder. His leg, too, had an ugly gouge from hip to knee, and as he staggered forward, blood and bits of charred flesh spattered to the ground in his wake.

Tony was on his feet in an instant, running for the door out to the helicopter pad. “Jarvis, wake up Bruce, get him up here,” he ordered. “Tell him to bring his – god, a first-aid kit doesn’t even _begin_ to cover this—”

He got the door open just as the man stumbled, his sword clattering to the floor; managed to catch him around the chest and haul him inside. Tony could smell burnt meat and coppery blood, and something else that seemed familiar but was probably less important than stopping the bleeding and… and doing _something_ until Bruce got here. The man hissed in pain and Tony realized he could feel more blood oozing under his hand on the man’s back; shoved the thought out of his head and tried to steer the guy toward one of the chairs.

But the man stopped, planting his feet with Asgardian strength, more than enough to halt them both despite his injuries. “Tony Stark,” he said hoarsely. “I must speak with the lord Tony Stark, the man of iron.”

“I’m him,” Tony said quickly, “that’s me, I’m Tony Stark, I’m Iron Man, now stop talking and _sit down_ —”

“No,” the man said. “I cannot. Thor is—” He sucked in a ragged breath and lifted his head to fix desperate blue eyes on Tony. “It took Thor. He’s gone.”

Tony’s blood ran cold. “What?” he demanded. “What do you mean he’s gone, who took him, what—No,” he interrupted himself. “No, wait, you sit down first, you can’t tell me anything if you pass out—”

“I’m fine,” the man said stubbornly.

“Yeah, fine, sure,” Tony agreed. “You’re only missing like twenty percent of your entire damn _body_. Now sit your ass down, my friends are on their way—”

He paused expectantly and Jarvis supplied, “I have contacted Director Fury, sir.”

“—and it’ll be easier if you only have to tell everything once,” Tony finished.  

The man frowned, but allowed Tony to help him into a chair – out of exhaustion or pain more than anything, Tony suspected, because seriously like most of the guy’s femur was gone, how was he even standing? And the blood on his back was from another crater in his ribcage just below the shoulder blade – Tony had gotten a glimpse of something he tried to tell himself wasn’t a lung while helping the guy sit down. He’d seen Thor shrug off what would have been debilitating injuries to a human, but this was ridiculous.

“Jarvis?” Tony called. “Where the hell is Bruce, is he coming, is he—”

“I’m right here,” Bruce said, and Tony spun to see him stepping out of the elevator. He was shirtless and wearing only frayed pajama pants, but he was carrying his ragged leather kit and he hurried across the room to crouch next to Tony. “What happened?” he asked, as he started peeling back the burned edges of the Asgardian’s coat from the wound.

The man watched Bruce skeptically. “Asgard has healers,” he said.

“Yeah,” Tony shot back, “and Earth has doctors and guess what, pal, you’re on Earth.”

The man flicked him a briefly irritated look. “I will be fine. Our concern should be Thor—”

“It is, I know, we’re going to get to that,” Tony said. “But—”

“Let him talk, Tony,” Bruce interrupted. He looked pointedly between the man’s wounds and the first-aid kit; Tony guessed that he wanted to keep the man distracted.

Tony sighed. “Okay, fine. Fine. We’ll just… Jarvis, record this, make sure you get everything so he doesn’t have to keep repeating himself.”

“Yes, sir,” Jarvis said.

The Asgardian looked around, frowning, clearly wondering where Jarvis actually _was_. Before he could start asking questions Tony couldn’t easily answer, Tony said quickly, “So. Start from the beginning. Something took Thor?”

“Yes.” The man winced; Bruce had twitched at the revelation that Thor was missing and must have jarred the man’s shoulder. “I am called Fandral the Dashing, one of the Warriors Three. Perhaps Thor has mentioned us?” He raised an eyebrow at Tony.

“Yeah,” Tony said. Now that he had a name, he could call up a memory of Fandral from the Infinity War, seeing him fight his way across the throne room through a sea of Chitauri, his eyes blue-sheened from Loki’s mind control. But Tony wasn’t about to bring that up, so all he said was, “I remember you.”

Fandral nodded, eyes drifting closed as he sank against the chair. “It’s the start of Alfheim’s summer festival,” he said. “They hold a tournament each year, a contest of strength and skill. The last few years, Thor was too busy to go, but this year he had no pressing obligations and so we – Thor, the Lady Sif, and we the Warriors Three – thought to attend, for sport.” He paused to catch his breath, and to allow Bruce to maneuver him to get at the wound on his back. “We went to the throne room, to seek the Allfather’s blessing, and Her Majesty’s. We were…” He shook his head. “It was supposed to be just a bit of fun, something to give Thor time away from his duties.”

“What happened?” Tony prompted.

Fandral’s jaw tightened. “It just… appeared. I think it must have fired its weapon before it even fully materialized; the Allfather couldn’t – didn’t even react before he fell.

“It was… big,” he continued, and waved his good arm vaguely. “Bigger than a giant, bigger even than Muspell himself. Armored in the entire, even its face, and marked with orange light. It was demanding something, but we paid little heed, for the Allfather had fallen and the Queen had taken up Gungnir.” He hesitated again, jaw working. “It felled her next, even as the rest of us charged.”

He shook his head. Bruce paused in his work on Fandral’s back to flick Tony a grim glance, but didn’t say anything. Tony bit his own tongue and waited for Fandral to continue.

Finally Fandral said, “I remember little of the attack. I know it struck me, and I saw Hogun fall, but… the next I remember is Thor calling to it. Telling it to stop, that he would answer its questions.”

“What did it want?” Bruce said.

“It was searching for something,” Fandral said. “I don’t remember what, ‘twas not a word I’ve heard before. But Thor said he could tell it where to find what it sought, and it just… snatched him and vanished all at once. None of us had time to stop it, even had we not been trounced like children.”

He shuddered, and Tony reached out to clasp his good shoulder. “You did everything you could,” he said.

Fandral made a noise of disgust. “We did nothing,” he spat. “None of us so much as scratched its armor, and now… Now the King and Queen have fallen, and the Lady Sif. Of the Warriors Three, only I am even able to stand. And that cursed creature has Thor.”

He caught Tony’s eyes, the anger and pain in his voice giving way to desperation. “Thor has always spoken highly of you and your companions. You fought for Asgard in the Infinity War. I have seen your strength. Now I beg you: help us once again. Please,” he whispered. “Help us save Thor.”


	3. Through the Bifrost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Le sort de notre peuple et celui du monde en dépendent."_  
>  -Wakfu S1E16, "L'Eliacube"

Steve Rogers arrived at Stark Tower an hour later; even Captain America on a motorcycle was no match for New York City rush hour traffic. He was wearing slacks, an Army t-shirt, and a leather jacket instead of his suit, but he had a bag slung over one shoulder and his shield strapped across his back, and his expression was grim. Jarvis must have been updating him with Fandral’s story while he drove.

Tony met him at the elevator door and pulled him off to the side near the bar, where Bruce was scrubbing gore off his hands in the sink. Fandral had finally passed out and Tony didn’t want to disturb him. “Hey, Cap,” he said quietly. “Hope you didn’t have any plans for the weekend, this looks ugly.”

Steve glanced past Tony at Fandral. Bruce had finished binding his wounds, having raided bandages from a major medical kit Jarvis had produced from somewhere with the help of a security guard, but the extent of his injuries was still obvious. “No kidding,” he said. “Our guy doesn’t know what this thing is?”

“Not a clue,” Tony admitted.

Steve shook his head. “We need more information,” he said. “Fury cleared us to go to Asgard. He’s going to round up some backup, but it’ll take time and he doesn’t want us to wait.”

Bruce frowned. “I don’t think we should move Fandral—”

“If you go back to Asgard,” Fandral interrupted from across the room, making all three of them jump, “then I am going with you.”

“You’re supposed to be asleep,” Tony said. “And what, exactly, are you planning to do, you can’t even walk—”

With what appeared to be great effort, Fandral got one eye open. “Asgard is my home,” he said quietly. “My shield companions are there, and I know not even whether they still live. I will not sit idly by while my home and my friends are under attack.”

Steve pressed his lips together, but nodded, then raised one hand to stop Bruce’s protest. “He’s right,” Steve said. “We’d all want the same thing.” He met Bruce’s eyes, then Tony’s, and Tony realized what he wasn’t saying: that if Fandral’s friends had died from their injuries, Fandral might be the only one left who had witnessed the attack. Which was a terrible thing to think and Tony really, really hoped it wasn’t true, but that was why they had Steve – to think of the terrible things and make sure they were prepared for them. He nodded reluctantly.

“Let’s get suited up,” Steve said.

“Aye aye, Captain,” Tony answered, and smirked when Steve shot him a disapproving look. If the banter was halfhearted, it was still comforting in its familiarity. Anything that could attack the very seat of Asgard’s power, could dispatch its best warriors with no apparent effort, was going to be a tough fight at best – especially since they didn’t even know where the thing had gone or how to find it.

It only took a few minutes for them to get ready: Steve in his blue and red armor which was still ridiculous even after three years, Tony in the Mark 63 Iron Man suit (not the newest design, but this one packed down neatly into something the size of a rucksack so if they were doing more footwork than fighting Tony could still carry it along), and Bruce ducking back to his room to change into a pair of battered canvas pants and an equally ragged workman’s shirt. Jarvis even managed to produce a wheelchair with the security guard’s help (“A building this size has certain accessibility requirements, sir”), and despite Fandral’s protests that he could walk, they settled him in it with his sword across his lap.

Then it was out to the helicopter pad and the Bifrost.

Heimdall must have been watching; the blue portal swirled into existence even as they approached. Tony saw Fandral swallow nervously; couldn’t stop the flutters in his own gut. He’d sent Pepper a message that he would be out of touch for a while on Avengers business, but she’d been in another meeting and he’d left out the rest. He just hoped that he’d make it back – preferably with Thor safe and sound – to let her know what had happened. But Steve was already stepping through the portal, and Bruce pushed Fandral behind him, and there was no time left for worrying.

Tony hadn’t traveled the Bifrost since the Avengers had come home from the Infinity War three years ago, but he remembered the stomach-churning nausea of it all too well. He had a brief impression of swirling blue and white, a slow and steady thrumming like a heartbeat, a vast openness beyond comprehension, and then he was staggering out the other side into a riot of color, and had to focus on keeping the morning’s coffee in his stomach where it belonged.

When he finally managed to look up, he saw Steve and Bruce standing before the Steward of Asgard, Bruce with one hand on Fandral’s good shoulder to keep him from trying to stand. They were at the end of the rainbow bridge, which was just as painfully kaleidoscopic as Tony remembered from the Infinity War. There were several horses a little ways up the bridge, one with blood smeared across its saddle, the rest held by a kid in livery who watched the humans with wide eyes. Heimdall stood before the golden arch of the Bifrost, his feet spread, his hands gripping the hilt of his sword, golden eyes distant and expression one of fierce concentration. If he’d noticed their arrival, he gave no sign.

The liveried kid stepped forward and bobbed an awkward bow, clearly not sure how to address them. “Er,” he said nervously. “My lord Heimdall instructed me to take you to the healers. He searches for the prince, and will send for you should he find anything.”

Steve nodded. “All right. Stark,” he added over his shoulder, “you’re on recon.” He hesitated, with a sideways glance at the unmoving Heimdall, then said, “All due respect, we know there’s folks who can hide even from Asgardians. Make sure it’s really gone, see if you can spot anything useful. We’ll meet you at the palace.”

“Right,” Tony muttered. He almost certainly wouldn’t see anything – if it could hide from Heimdall it could hide from Tony’s cameras, and anyway it had no reason to stick around – but three years of working together on and off told him that it wasn’t that Steve expected him to find anything, but rather just wanted an excuse for one of their team to wander unsupervised. For someone who was still held up as an example of the Perfect Soldier, Steve had learned quickly not to trust governments and those who worked for them. Sending Tony on “recon” would allow him to poke his nose in places where maybe the liveried kid had been told not to let them look. The liveried kid who was, in fact, starting to open his mouth to protest, so Tony tossed Steve a cheeky salute and blasted into the air. 

*             *             *

Recon was as useless as Tony expected it to be; he spent ten minutes or so zipping around the city’s golden towers – mostly rebuilt since the last time he was here, and that was some seriously fast work, New York was still finishing the cleanup stage – then decided that was enough of the charade and dove into the palace through the open atrium over the throne room.

The huge room was empty, and the noise of first Tony’s repulsors, then his boots against the marble floor, echoed strangely in the vastness of the hall. The Asgardians had repaired the throne room, too – you almost wouldn’t know that a war had happened in here unless you looked closely for scratches in the marble, for subtle marks on the golden carvings where artisans hadn’t quite been able to repair the damage from the Chitauri’s blasters. Tony paced slowly along the length of the broad red carpet that ran from the main doors all the way to the baldachin at the far end of the room, remembering. This was where he’d blown up a pair of Chitauri gliders, over there the spot where he’d tricked a group of Chitauri into firing onto a different glider, and up there a slight dent in a golden pillar where he’d made a bad dodge.

Here was the spot at the top of the stairs into the baldachin where Loki had fought the robed Chitauri, where he’d allowed himself to fall to lure Thor back.

Here was the spot where Loki had died.

_(Not Loki, just an illusion, a grand trick to win the war, but he could still remember the terrible peace on Loki’s face, the slowly dawning horror on Thor’s, the lightning and thunder and whirling storm called into the room by Thor’s grief and rage—)_

Tony looked away, but that meant looking into the baldachin itself, at the fresh streaks of blood, the charred marks on the golden walls, the stench of battle and pain that he remembered. The suit’s HUD picked out potentially relevant marks: what might have been a massive footprint on the stairs down (and if that was the thing’s footprint, then Fandral’s _big_ didn’t begin to cover it; either it was Bigfoot or it was thirty feet tall), the angles of the blood sprays, the blast craters showing the lines of battle.

“Talk to me, Jarvis,” Tony muttered. His voice sounded loud against the silence, even inside his helmet, and he dropped his voice almost to a whisper. “What do we think happened?”

Calculations flicked across the HUD as Jarvis considered; finally he said, “I see fourteen separate shots, sir.”

A series of lines overlaid the HUD, showing the blasting angles, and Tony frowned. “So it was up here?” he asked. “At the top of the stairs?”

“It appears so,” Jarvis answered. More lines appeared, tracing marks invisible to Tony’s human eyes but clear to Jarvis’s: footprints starting a little ways past the top of the stairs, then moving down into the baldachin before stopping abruptly. And yeah, based on the size of the feet, the length of the strides, and the angles of the shots, they were looking at something at _least_ thirty feet tall or more.

Tony walked down into the baldachin, picking his way carefully around the bloody, human-sized footprints that showed where Thor’s friends had attacked – and fallen. Down here, surrounded by the gold and the torchlight with the enormous throne looming above him, more memories nudged him: Thanos sprawled on the throne, blunt teeth bared in a lazy grin; Thor on his knees beside him, chained, muzzled, and collared; Loki screaming, writhing helplessly in the robed Chitauri’s grip; the flare of light as Loki’s girlfriend grabbed the Tesseract off Thanos’s shoulder. Ugly memories and Tony shoved them back down where they belonged, made himself do another circuit of the baldachin to see if he’d missed anything.

But the marks of battle couldn’t tell him any more than Fandral already had, and finally he gave up and pinged Steve’s comm. “I’m happy to report there’s no thirty-foot-tall boogeyman with laser beams hiding in the corners,” he said. “I’m not so happy to report that we still have no idea where the thirty-foot-tall boogeyman took Thor.”

“All right,” Steve answered, his tone distracted. “We’re in the infirmary, think you can find us?”

“Sure,” Tony said. “I just have to wander around looking lost. —Actually,” he added, “here comes someone now, be there in a sec.”

He’d heard footsteps echoing on the marble; turning, he spotted a pair of young men in gold armor and truly absurd helmets walking toward him. Tony flipped up his faceplate and put on his best smile. “Hey guys, I’m lost, I’m supposed to be meeting Thor’s friends in the infirmary, think you can help?”

He didn’t miss the relief in their eyes that they wouldn’t have to try to convince him to leave, and one of them motioned for him to follow them. Tony knew the Avengers were on sketchy jurisdiction here; they’d been welcomed politely enough when they were war heroes and Asgard’s saviors, but Thor had always hemmed and hawed when Tony asked if he could go back, and had finally admitted that mortals were not permitted on Asgard. But desperate times and all that, and anyway Tony suspected that Fandral (or Heimdall) was pulling rank enough to allow the Avengers to help.

The guards led Tony through a series of grand golden halls and finally to a smaller wing, with less gold splendor and more soft cloth drapes and green plants which didn’t quite hide the smell of sickness and pain that was apparently universal to hospitals even in another realm. Tony found Bruce pacing the outer room of an elegant suite, with Steve nowhere in sight. Through an open door he could see Fandral sitting on the edge of a bed occupied by a very large, very still man, while an older woman in silver robes was undoing Fandral’s bandages to apply a salve.

“The king’s going to live,” Bruce told Tony in a low voice as Tony pulled his helmet off. “So will Sif and Hogun.” He glanced at Fandral through the open door and dropped his voice even further. “They don’t know about Volstagg yet, or the queen.”

Tony winced. “Does anyone else remember _anything_? We’re flailing in the dark here.”

“No one else is conscious,” Bruce said, and shook his head. “I don’t—”

Another door on the far wall opened and Steve leaned out, motioning them over. “The queen is awake,” he said. “...Sort of. But she ordered them to let us talk to her, and she’s the queen, so…”

“Sort of?” Tony asked as he followed Steve through the door. “What does ‘sort of’—” Then he saw the figure on the bed in the middle of the room, and stopped.

He remembered Frigga as an elegant and commanding woman, with a poised beauty that you didn’t normally see on Earth. But the woman on the bed was hollow, her body a red-and-black ruin of burns and missing flesh, her face ghostly pale and her eyes staring emptily at the ceiling. Tony swallowed, hard; he could smell burnt flesh even this far away.

As they approached her bedside, Frigga’s eyes slid toward them and her jaw moved slightly as she tried to speak. “...cube,” she managed.

Steve leaned in a little, crouching so that he wasn’t looming over her. “Sorry, what was that?” he said carefully.

“Cube,” Frigga whispered again. Her eyes drifted closed and she swallowed, then more clearly, “Eliacube.”

Tony and Bruce traded a glance over Steve’s head; the word was unfamiliar to Tony and from Bruce’s confused expression, he didn’t know it either. Ignoring them, Steve asked gently, “Is that what it wanted? The thing that attacked you?”

Frigga’s chin dipped slightly in a nod, then her eyes opened again and fixed with frightening abruptness on Tony’s. For a second the entire universe seemed to whirl around him, color and light and sound too fast to process, the sense of something huge looming over him, tantalizingly familiar laughter dancing behind his shoulder, a single deep pulse like the heartbeat of the universe, and the only still point was Frigga’s eyes, fierce and bright—

The last thing Tony heard before he blacked out was her voice, echoing around him like Fate itself: “My son,” she whispered. “Find my son…!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late! My current class has homework due Monday nights, and unfortunately homework has to come before posting fanfiction. Hopefully I'll be able to get ahead of my work this week, but if not, updates may be delayed until Tuesday a few more times until this class is over. :( 
> 
> Also, before anyone wonders why Tony, Bruce, and Steve don't recognize the word "Eliacube" - while Loki, Jahanna, and Tikal used "Eliacube" freely with each other during the events of J'entre, the only time it's used in front of anyone else is in the throne room after the war, when Loki is talking to Thor, Odin, Frigga, and Heimdall. The Avengers never heard it called anything except "Tesseract". 
> 
> Also also, Google Translate has trouble with the chapter summary quote, so you guys get a freebie translation: "The fates of our people and the world depend on it."


	4. Trail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I can’t come home yet. I need to find this guy.”  
> - _Iron Man 3_

Tony came to lying somewhat uncomfortably on his back; he was still in the suit and the suit wasn’t designed for lying down. There was a pillow under his head, which made him think he might be on one of the infirmary’s beds, although he couldn’t feel anything through the suit and he wasn’t exactly focusing right anyway. His head was spinning even with his eyes closed, and for a second he could have sworn he could hear a clock ticking somewhere, deep and insistent, until he managed to get his eyes open and the sound resolved into Bruce’s footsteps as he paced across the marble floor.

“Stark,” Steve said from somewhere near Tony’s shoulder, and Tony didn’t miss the note of relief in his voice. Bruce looked over sharply, worry etched in the lines of his face, and Tony managed what he suspected was a rather sickly grin at him before turning his head to look at Steve. The captain was sitting on a chair near Tony’s bed, shifting and squaring his shoulders in a way that suggested he’d been hunched over with his head bowed a moment ago. The room looked similar enough to the queen’s to be part of the suite whose central room they’d been in earlier; it was empty except for the three of them, and Tony cautiously levered himself to a sitting position.

“Well,” he said, and his voice was only a little hoarse, “that was interesting.”

“What happened?” Bruce demanded. “You hit the floor like a sack of bricks.”

“Hey, you take that back, this suit is only the highest-quality titanium alloy,” Tony said, and was rewarded with a faint smile from Bruce, the worry lines easing a little. More seriously, Tony added, “I’m… not too sure about the what happened part. Other than wow, I keep forgetting there’s a reason the Vikings thought these guys were gods. Beyond the super-strength thing.”

“How are you feeling now?” Bruce asked. He sat on the edge of the bed and started to lean in to check Tony’s pupils or some other doctor-y thing, but Tony stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“Easy there, Doc, if there was anything majorly wrong with me Jarvis would’ve said something by now,” he said. “I’m fine, I promise.” Which was mostly the truth; the room had stopped spinning, and he was even pretty sure that if he stood up he wouldn’t fall right back down again.

“Good,” Steve said. “We’re losing time. Neither of us know what an Eliacube is. How about you?”

Tony shook his head. “Not a clue.” Which was also mostly the truth. The word was nigglingly familiar the more he thought about it, in the same way that he knew the Stark Industries CIO’s name wasn’t Jennifer but he could never remember what it actually was – Janice? Janelle? But he couldn’t pinpoint exactly why it was familiar, and it wouldn’t do any good to say anything until he had something more substantial. “We should ask around,” he said instead. “Heimdall, maybe, or... did you guys ask Fandral— no, he said he didn’t know either, didn’t—”

A knock at the door cut him off and he frowned, because knocks on doors in hospitals meant nurses coming to check up on you and really he was fine, but Steve was already calling, “Come in,” and the door opened to reveal not a silver-robed nurse but the liveried kid from earlier on the Bifrost.

His eyes were wide and he was breathing hard, and before any of them could say anything he gasped out, “Come quickly—the throne room—!”

Steve was on his feet in an instant, crossing the room to grip the kid by the shoulders, steadying him. “Calm down, son,” he said. “What happened?”

The kid gulped in air and swallowed. “I was to supervise the cleaning of the throne room,” he managed. “I had gone to look, and I felt – it was as if the world itself was being torn open. I think it was coming back, I didn’t dare stay to see—!”

Bruce jumped off the bed and Tony clambered up after him, ignoring the way his stomach lurched unpleasantly at the change in orientation. “Take us there,” Steve told the kid. “Fastest way you know.” The kid gave him a horrified look, but Steve patted his shoulder. “We’ll handle it,” he said firmly. “Just get us there.”

The kid nod-nod-nodded, eyes still far too wide, but he turned and led them at a half-run out of the suite and into the halls. Tony took two steps and staggered, but when Bruce shot him a hard-eyed look he smiled innocently and forced himself to keep moving forward, just in time to catch his helmet when Steve tossed it to him.

By the time they reached a half-hidden servants’ door in the wall which opened at the kid’s touch, Tony’s steps had evened out and he felt more or less normal. The kid – teenager, really, and an Asgardian so he was probably centuries old or something but that wasn’t enough to stop Tony from seeing him as one of the big-eyed high schoolers who toured Stark Tower every so often – led them through narrow, twisting dark passages, dodging other servants who shot them looks ranging from startled to suspicious. But no one stopped them and within minutes they were behind a door Tony remembered from three years ago: the servants’ hidden entrance to the baldachin, off to the side of the throne near the base. He couldn’t hear anything through the door, no heavy footsteps or laser blasts or booming voices demanding Eliacubes, and after a moment of listening Steve motioned for the kid to stay back and rested a hand on the latch.

He pushed open the door and dove out all in one motion, shield up and body tucked defensively behind it. Tony was right behind him, thrusters engaging to send him up above the baldachin walls to see the whole of the throne room—

—which was empty, no thirty-foot-tall boogeymen with laser beams anywhere in sight.

Below him Steve had come out of his defensive crouch and was looking around warily, standing on tiptoe to see above the steps out of the baldachin. “Stark,” he called. “You see that?”

Tony frowned, looking around, about to say _see what_ when he spotted what had caught Steve’s eye: a sphere, roughly the size of a cantaloupe, hovering a foot or so above the marble floor in the exact spot where the mystery attacker had first landed. It was dark bluish-grey with lines of orange light running in right-angled veins along its surface, spinning jerkily in place and making eerie electric whine-click noises.

“Yeah,” Tony said. “I see it.”

“Any idea what it is?”

“Nope.” Tony eased a little closer and set the suit to scanning the thing for emissions.

Bruce, who’d emerged from the servants’ passage behind Steve, crossed over to the stairs and began to climb. “You two stay back,” he said.

“Bruce—” Tony started, then cut himself off. Bruce was right; he had the Other Guy to protect him and so it was safest for him to approach the thing. Still, Tony kept an eye on it – both his own and the suit’s digital one – as Bruce moved cautiously across the floor to finally crouch beside it.

“I don’t feel anything,” he said after a moment. “Tony?”

Tony raised an eyebrow at his HUD, which Jarvis took as his cue to say, “It is emitting… something, sir.” But Jarvis didn’t normally sound that puzzled, so Tony raised the other eyebrow and the AI continued, “It most closely resembles the gamma radiation patterns of the Tesseract at rest, but it’s not quite the same. Off-key, if you will.”

“O-kay,” Tony muttered. He dropped to the floor next to Bruce, who had one hand out like he wanted to touch the thing but didn’t quite dare. Steve was climbing the steps from the baldachin, the liveried kid hovering nervously behind him near the servants’ door; Tony pointed at the kid and said, “You. Hey. Come here.”

The kid twitched, and Tony belatedly remembered that his faceplate was still down and that it did not make for a warm and welcoming visage, so he flipped it up and smiled to let the kid know he wasn’t in trouble. After a moment the kid moved, although he slowed when he got close to the mystery ball and finally stopped altogether about ten feet back at the top of the stairs, rubbing his arms uneasily. “My lord?” he said.

“You got a name, kid?” Tony asked.

The boy nodded. “Ragnvaldr Snæfridjarsson, my lord.”

“You felt this thing come through?” Tony asked.

“Yes, my lord.” Ragnvaldr nodded again, one hand drifting up to touch a green and gold band around his upper arm. “I am…” He took a deep breath, then, “I am studying _seiðr_ , the magic arts.” He said it all in a rush, as if confessing something terrible, and added defensively, “Loki son of Laufey saved Asgard with magic, it cannot be so terrible a thing.”

Tony held up his hands. “No arguments here,” he said. “So you sensed it because of magic?”

“Yes, my lord,” Ragnvaldr said. “Though at the time I thought it was that… that _creature_ returning.” His eyes darted over to where Bruce was now holding the sphere up for Steve to look at. “It makes me uneasy, my lord. It’s not of the Nine Realms.”

Steve glanced over his shoulder at him. “Is it doing anything, uh, magical now?”

Ragnvaldr hesitated, eyes going unfocused and his head tilting to the side; finally he shook his head. “No?” he said. “Not… not actively. But I think it’s listening.”

“Listening for what?” Bruce asked.

“The Eliacube,” Tony answered, and then stopped, because he’d _almost_ said something else, it was on the tip of his tongue, and he frowned at the sphere, turned and scanned slowly around the throne room, trying to jog his memory—

And stopped, staring at the throne.

Remembered Loki on the floor on his knees, Thor behind him while Thanos raised the Infinity Gauntlet to blast them to ash—

Loki’s girlfriend grabbing the Tesseract from Thanos’s shoulder and absorbing it, lines of blue-white light swirling over her skin—

Fandral saying, just hours ago in Tony’s observatory, _armored in the entire and marked with orange light_ —

—and Tony said, “Jarvis, Loki’s catgirl, remember her, what was she called, not her name but her—her species, her race, whatever—”

—and Bruce’s eyes widened an instant before Jarvis said, “Eliatrope, sir.”

“Elia _trope_ ,” Tony said, snapping his fingers, “Elia _cube_. Anyone honestly believe that’s even remotely coincidental?”

Bruce and Steve both shook their heads, but Tony’s mind was still racing, remembering, putting together the pieces. “The queen said _find my son_ ,” he said. “She wasn’t telling us to find Thor. She was telling us to find _Loki_.” He paused, then shrugged. “Well okay, she probably meant Thor, but the point is, Loki has an Eliatrope, who can probably tell us what an Eliacube is and whether it’s another name for the Tesseract.”

Steve sucked in a sharp breath, jaw tightening. Tony knew he’d hoped to be quit of the damn thing after the Infinity War; he met Steve’s eyes, said more gently, “She seemed awfully familiar with the Tesseract, Loki didn’t start powering up with it until after he met her, she could… absorb it, whatever that was about—”

Steve shook his head. “No, you’re right, it’s probably not a coincidence. That thing’s a bad penny.” He looked over at Ragnvaldr. “Loki vanished after the Infinity War. Does anyone here know where he went? Anyone who isn’t unconscious in the infirmary right now?”

“Heimdall might,” the boy offered.

“Good. Take us back to the Bifrost.”

*             *             *

The return trip to the Bifrost where Heimdall stood didn’t take long, Steve and Bruce and Ragnvaldr on horseback, Tony flying overhead. Ragnvaldr had found a belt pouch for Bruce to carry the mystery sphere in; whatever else it was, it was a clue to the attacker’s identity and Steve had ruled that they should keep it close. It had also occurred to Tony, though he hadn’t yet suggested it, that Loki might be able to figure out more if they let him look at it. Which was a big if – they didn’t even know whether they’d be able to find Loki, and if they did, whether he’d be willing to help them. Tony had gathered from Thor that Loki had visited Asgard a few times in the last three years, but whether that translated into being willing to risk his life to save Thor’s was a different question entirely.

Heimdall was pulling his sword from a slot in the side of the gold archway as they arrived. The center of the arch swirled with brilliant blue light ( _just like the Tesseract, just like the Eliatrope’s portals, just like the hole in the sky over New York_ ), and even as the horses came to a halt and Tony touched down on the rainbow bridge, SHIELD agents Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton emerged from the portal.

Barton gave them a curt nod. Natasha likewise nodded to Tony and Bruce, then looked at Steve and with a faint smile, said, “Captain.”

“You’re our backup?” Tony said suspiciously.

“We were here during the Infinity War,” Natasha said. “Fury thought it was for the best.”

Which Tony couldn’t really disagree with, considering Asgard’s dislike for having lowly mortals touch their stuff. “Long story short,” he said, “our mystery kidnapper is looking for something called an Eliacube, which may or may not be the Tesseract but is almost certainly related to Loki’s Eliatrope girlfriend. Meaning we need to find Loki and his girlfriend to ask.”

He saw Barton go still at Loki’s name, saw the way Natasha brushed her arm against his. Steve apparently did, too, because he said to Barton, “If you want to back out—”

Barton looked to Natasha, his mouth tightening, then he said stiffly, “No. I’ll go.”

Tony glanced at Steve, half-expecting him to send Barton home regardless, but Steve just nodded and turned to Heimdall. The Steward had been watching them silently; now his golden eyes fixed on Steve, and Tony saw Steve’s chin lift a little under the weight of that gaze. After a long moment, Heimdall said, “Loki Laufeyson and his wife have made their home on a world beyond the Nine Realms. I can see the portal to which the Bifrost connects, and I can see Loki when he allows it, but I cannot see what lies between them.” He met Tony’s eyes then, gaze like a physical weight. For a second Tony thought he could hear that distant ticking again, the vastness of the starfield below the Bifrost swirling deep and hungry, and he swallowed hard. “If you go there,” Heimdall continued, “Asgard can no longer help you.”

“Maybe not,” Steve said, and Tony was glad he was talking because Tony's stomach was trying to crawl out through his throat again, “but if Loki’s Eliatrope can help us find Thor, then we don’t have a choice.”

Heimdall looked away from Tony then ( _the ticking fading, the starfield going still once more_ ), his eyes settling on each of the others in turn. Finally he said, “Loki and Jahanna live in the Sadida Kingdom. Seek them there.” He turned, his massive sword spinning deceptively lightly in his hands to slide into the side of the golden arch. Blue light swirled at the center of the arch, then the portal snapped open and Tony could just make out green grass and blue sky beyond.

Steve, of course, moved first, but then stopped and turned to Ragnvaldr. “Can you do something for me, son?” he asked.

The kid looked to Heimdall, who nodded; he turned back to Steve and said, “My lord?”

“Go to Earth,” Steve said. “Tell SHIELD Director Nick Fury where we’ve gone, and what we know so far.”

“Earth?” Ragnvaldr stammered.

“Send him to Pepper,” Tony said to Heimdall, then added to the kid, “She’s a friend, she’ll help you out.” Ragnvaldr swallowed hard, but nodded, then bowed.

“All right, people,” Steve said, and turned to face the Bifrost portal. “Let’s go find Loki.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, looks like Tuesday updates are going to be a definite thing, I'm afraid. (Warning, kids: if your boss tells you that you should totally get a master's, it'll be good for your career, sure you've been out of school for a while and you're working full-time but it's totally worth it - think hard before agreeing. It's probably not worth it. :/ )
> 
> That said, I should be pretty consistent with Tuesday updates, and depending on how my next class handles due dates, I'll either stick with Tuesdays or go back to Mondays. Either way, barring extraneous circumstances, there will still be one update a week. So stay tuned! :)


	5. The World of Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Et c’est ainsi que nous finîmes par trouver cette terre. Elle regorgeait de vie. Le Wakfu en imprégnait chaque parcelle.”  
> -Wakfu S2E6, “Qilby”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Spoilers for _Iron Man 3_!

Going through the Bifrost with his stomach already unsettled from the first trip, from the queen’s… whatever, and from Heimdall’s… also whatever, was not a pleasant experience, and when he emerged at the other end it was a minute or two before Tony could focus on anything except not puking. He was aware of the other Avengers moving around him, Steve saying something he didn’t catch, Natasha answering. When he did finally manage to look up, he saw that they’d arranged themselves in a semicircle around him, the Bifrost (not Asgard’s golden arch, this one was onion-shaped and embedded in a tree the size of a small house) behind them. Much to Tony’s annoyance, the only one of them who looked even remotely bothered by the trip was Barton, who was a little green around the gills but otherwise functional.

They had emerged in a forest or woodland of some kind, with the sort of old growth that meant trees too big for three people to reach around, heavy mats of vines draping down from the branches, and thick grass underfoot. Still, the area immediately around the Bifrost was obviously tended by someone: the grass trampled mostly flat, the plants turned so that they grew away from the clearing, and a tall stone, carved and painted with a blue sun-like symbol, jutting up beside the huge tree that held the Bifrost portal. Everything was brightly colored, vivid in a way that Earth wasn’t, filled with vitality the way Asgard was filled with gold. Odd blue and orange flowers, the size and shape of serving bowls, studded the moss growing up the sides of the Bifrost tree, and even larger orange mushrooms served as steps from the portal down to the ground. Tony was still standing on the topmost step, and once his stomach had settled a little, he climbed carefully down.

“It’s like one of those movies where the heroes end up on a prehistoric island,” Barton was saying. He had his bow out and an arrow nocked, but not drawn. “I feel like we ought to see a dinosaur any minute now.”

“I hope not,” Bruce said. “Those movies usually end with at least one of the heroes getting _eaten_ by the dinosaurs.”

Barton snorted, but then said grimly, “So, maybe I should’ve brought this up before we took a magic bridge to another world that may or may not be full of man-eating monsters, but do we even think Loki’s going to help? Because after the war he gave the Nine Realms a big fuck-you, and we were happy to get rid of him. Because he’s fucking _insane_.”

“Actually,” Bruce said carefully, “he’s apparently been going back to Asgard with some regularity.”

Tony saw the way Barton went still, his jaw tightening, his shoulders going rigid. Tony wasn’t surprised he hadn’t known; while they were part of the Avengers Initiative, Barton and Natasha were SHIELD agents first and foremost. They didn’t always join in when the rest of the team went on missions, and when they did, they rarely stuck around for the post-mission beer and shit-shooting that Tony, Thor, Bruce, and sometimes Steve would indulge in. Thor avoided mentioning Loki around Barton, as well; even if he hadn’t been the one who accidentally found Barton’s post-mindrape psych eval on a SHIELD server that really ought to have been secured better ( _and Tony hadn’t been looking for anything sensitive, honest, but when SHIELD left their servers that wide open, how could he not at least look around?_ ), Thor was clearly well aware of just how badly Loki had damaged Barton.

“Look,” Tony said carefully, “you’re right, we don’t know if he’ll be willing to help. All we know is that Thor mentioned him visiting Asgard a couple times, and Thor seemed pretty happy about it, which hopefully means he’s lighter on the insanity and maybe a little bit more with the brotherly love.”

Natasha caught Steve’s eye. “You said we need to talk to Loki’s girlfriend. Not Loki himself?”

“Maybe,” Steve said. “This is all based on the wild guess that the Eliacube the kidnapper is looking for, is related to the Eliatrope Loki ran off with. Or that she at least knows what it is.”

“You think she’ll be more willing to talk to us?” Barton asked, his tone bitter. “We almost killed her. _I_ almost killed her.”

“We won’t know until we try,” Steve said firmly. “But we need to find them first.” He glanced over his shoulder at Tony. “Think you can do recon without losing your lunch?”

Tony flipped him the bird. “If I’m not back in fifteen minutes, a T-Rex ate me,” he said, and blasted into the air.

Getting up through the thick canopy was tricky, but the suit protected Tony from being scratched by the small branches and he could weave his way through the bigger ones. He didn’t see any dinosaurs, but there was a lot of strange fauna - huge birds, gerbil-looking things the size of Chihuahuas, bugs that looked like a cross between dragonflies and mosquitos - and even the trees looked just a little strange, just a little not-Earthlike. And when he finally broke through the canopy, the view took his breath away: green trees rolling away in all directions, broken here and there by high sheer cliffs; a sky bluer than anything he’d ever seen; and in the distance, a tree that towered over the canopy the way most trees towered over grass.

“Whoa,” Tony breathed. “Jarvis, please tell me you’re recording this.”

“I am, sir,” Jarvis said.

At the same time, Steve’s voice came over Tony’s comm: “What do you see?”

“Ever look at a CGI landscape and wish you could be there?” Tony answered. “That’s what I’m seeing. Wow.” He spun in place, taking in the whole view. Way off in the other direction, he could just make out where the forest fell away to open ground, and something that might’ve been a town at the very edge of sight.

“Stark,” Steve said sharply.

Tony shook himself. “All right, all right. Killjoy.” He turned again, this time looking with a more critical eye. “Forest everywhere. Maybe civilization off to the… south? I think? Assuming magnetic north is the same here. And the biggest damned tree I have ever seen, I didn’t think trees could even get that big, it has to be a thousand feet tall—”

“Anything that looks like a kingdom?” Steve asked.

“Nope,” Tony said. “Come on, you didn’t think it was going to be that easy.”

“A guy can hope,” Steve shot back.

“Hope later, we’re on the clock,” Tony said. He began to descend, which was harder than it sounded because diving head-first into the canopy at speed would probably end with him faceplanting on a branch wide enough to hold a Humvee. Still, he managed to reach the clearing where the others waited without too much incident, and he’d only spotted one bird that looked like it was laughing at him. “So,” he said as he touched down and flipped up his faceplate. “Do we have a plan that’s better than just ‘pick a direction’?”

“Well,” Natasha said from behind him —and Tony nearly jumped out of his suit— “I’m pretty sure this is a trail back here.”

They looked where she was pointing, and indeed there was a gap in the trees, partially hidden by hanging vines, but if Tony looked closely he could just see what appeared to be wooden planks set into the ground across the opening as if to mark it. “It goes that way,” Natasha continued, gesturing in a direction Tony’s compass told him was roughly northwest, “and that way.” To the east this time.

“You said civilization to the south—” Steve started, but Jarvis interrupted him.

“Sir,” he said, “the, er, mystery sphere appears to be doing something.”

Tony held up a hand to stop Steve and flipped his faceplate back down, calling up the HUD. “Something? Jarvis, you’re going to have to be more specific than that.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Jarvis said. “The sphere’s emissions have increased in intensity by a factor of sixty-seven, but I still do not know what those emissions are doing.” He paused, then added, “By a factor of sixty-nine percent, now.”

“Great,” Tony muttered. “Hey, Doc, lemme see that ball.” He could see the others tense up as he said it, their eyes going to the sphere as Bruce extracted it from the bag at his hip, their hands moving toward their weapons uneasily.

“What _is_ that?” Barton whispered. His eyes were a little too wide, his hand working at the grip of his bow nervously, and Tony remembered that Jarvis had said the sphere sounded like an off-key Tesseract.

“We think it might be a tracking device,” Bruce answered as he handed it to Tony. “Something the kidnapper sent to find this Eliacube it’s looking for.”

The thing looked about the same as it had back in Asgard’s throne room, still glowing orange and whine-clicking restlessly in Tony’s hands. “Seventy-two percent,” Jarvis said, and for a second Tony thought he could feel it, a ghostly heartbeat in the center of his chest where the arc reactor had been, throbbing in time to the pulsing of the sphere’s light. It was hypnotizing, in a strange way, the orange light almost seeming to flow through its veins, the clicking not totally random, there was a pattern there, Tony was sure, if he just looked hard enough, listened closely enough—

“Stark!”

Tony started; looked up to see Bruce right in front of him, Steve behind him looking worried. He blinked, frowned, looked down at the sphere in his hands. Looked back up at his friends, but before he could say anything, the sound of footsteps through brush had them all turning toward the entrance to the grove. Bruce stayed in front of Tony, blocking the sphere from view, and Tony hurriedly stuck it behind his back.

A moment later two boys came running into the grove, skidding to a stop when they saw the Avengers. The first was maybe sixteen or seventeen years old, with the oversized hands and feet and broad bony shoulders that meant, first, that he was due for a growth spurt any time now, and second, that when it finished he’d be of a size with Steve. His clothes were simple, battered tan pants and a bright blue poncho-wrap thing like Thor sometimes wore; and his sandy brown hair was covered by an equally blue cat-eared hat with a long, broad tail that hung down his back.

The other boy was… actually, Tony wasn’t sure what he was. His skin was bone-white, his lips bright blue, his eyes a little too big for his face and outlined in the same blue. His feet were bare, with two thick talons in place of toes, and his hands had only four fingers instead of five. His hair was thick and brown and bowl-cut, with branch-like horns above each ear and a single thick conical horn over his forehead. He wore an odd blue dress-like thing with a yellow and red diamond pattern on the front, and he was watching the first boy nervously.

“Ninety-six percent,” Jarvis said in Tony’s ear.

The first boy grinned at the Avengers, revealing tiny fangs. “Hi!” he said brightly.

“Uh,” Steve said. “Hello.”

“What’ve you got there?” the boy asked. He leaned to one side, clearly trying to peer around Bruce at Tony.

“Yugo!” the other boy yelped. He grabbed Yugo’s arm and yanked him back. “I’m sorry,” he said to Steve. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

“I told you, Ad, I’m fine!” Yugo said before Steve could say anything. He tugged away and turned back to Tony and Bruce. “I’m Yugo, and this is my brother Adamaï,” he said. “Who are you?”

“My name is Steve,” Steve answered. He glanced at Tony, then added, “What are you looking for?”

Yugo had been edging closer to Tony and Bruce again; at Steve’s words he stopped and said, “Oh, I’m not looking for anything.” He rubbed the back of his hat self-consciously. “I just felt the Zaap open and I wanted to see who was coming.”

Adamaï was frowning at him in earnest now. “Yugo,” he said. “Come on, we should go.”

“Wait,” Tony said. The cat-eared hat, the fangs, sensing a portal… “Are you an Eliatrope?”

Adamaï’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, but Yugo just said, “Yep!”

“We were actually looking for an Eliatrope,” Tony said quickly. He could feel Steve’s eyes on him but the captain hadn’t interrupted yet, which meant he wasn’t going to stop him. “Tell you what, if I show you what I’m holding, would you answer a few questions for us?”

“Sure!” Yugo said.

“ _Yugo_ ,” Adamaï hissed. He made a grab for his brother’s arm, but Yugo was already moving forward, brushing past Bruce as if he hardly saw him.

Tony held out the sphere. He’d intended to just show it to the kid, but Yugo snatched it out of Tony’s hands, gaze locked on it like nothing else in the world mattered. He crossed his legs and sat down in the grass, holding the sphere floating between his palms.

“One hundred forty-seven percent,” Jarvis said.

“Yugo!” Adamaï shouted. His eyes had gone wide and he rushed over to his brother, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him.

Yugo didn’t so much as blink, his gaze never wavering from the sphere even as Adamaï shook him hard enough to rock him back and forth. Tony looked helplessly to Bruce; he had no idea what was happening, though he remembered the way the sphere had captivated him just a few minutes ago—

“YUGO!!!” Adamaï bellowed, then whirled on the Avengers. “ _What did you do to my brother?!_ ”

—And abruptly Tony remembered what had happened the last time they’d hurt an Eliatrope, when Barton had shot Jahanna on the base in New Mexico, and he flipped down his faceplate even as an explosion of displaced air blasted them all—

—he shoved Bruce in one direction and dove in the other, half a second before a blast of flame roared between them, and when he rolled to his feet, he found himself facing down a very large, very angry white dragon. 


	6. Avengers vs Brotherhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Qu'est-ce que tu lui as fait? Qu'est ce que t'as fait à mon frérot?!”_  
>  -Wakfu S1E21, “Igôle”

“—I’ve told him over and over not to run off without us, but he keeps _doing_ it, like it’s nothing, like he can just _handle_ everything all by himself, hasn’t he _learned_ yet—”

Evangelyne followed Amalia through the forest, only half-listening to her angry grumbling. Amalia went off like this every time Yugo ran off on his own, and while Yugo was getting better about it, it still happened often enough that Eva could practically recite Amalia’s rant by heart. Still, this time was unusual, not least because for once they weren’t in the middle of a world-threatening crisis and there was absolutely no reason why Yugo _should_ have gone running off.

According to Amalia, she, Yugo, and Adamaï had been on their way to an early lunch when Yugo had suddenly perked up like a bowmeow who’d heard a mouse, then jumped over a balcony and took off across the treetops without so much as a word of explanation. He’d even left behind his tofu Az, who was now sitting dejectedly on Amalia’s shoulder. Adamaï had flown after him, but there was no way Amalia could keep up with them, and so she’d come storming past the terrace where Eva had been teaching Cabotine (and Tristepin, though he wouldn’t admit it) to read. One look at Amalia’s face had been enough for Eva; she’d handed Cabotine off to Minister Thicktuft and gone after her. Tristepin had followed them because, as he put it, “when Yugo runs off it means there’s a fight, and a knight would never leave his friends to fight alone!”

They’d picked up Ruel somewhere along the way, too – Eva thought he might have been looking for Amalia to pester her (again) about mining the gold under the Sadida Kingdom, and then hadn’t been able to get away fast enough when Tristepin grabbed him and dragged him along. He was now slouching along next to Tristepin, who was happily explaining the difference between the letters in his name. Pinpin was even getting it mostly right, and Eva allowed herself to smile. The Brotherhood didn’t often spend time together lately – Yugo, Adamaï, and Amalia were busy with the business of the kingdom and their lessons, while Eva and Pinpin spent most of their time with their daughter, and Ruel was off looking for more gold. It was nice to have the group back together (at least mostly), and even chasing after Yugo and Adamaï was oddly nostalgic.

Then a furious roar rattled the treetops, shattering the morning quiet and sending flocks of birds into the air.

Eva’s breath caught. “That was Adamaï,” she said.

“They must be in trouble,” Tristepin said, drawing his sword. “Come on!”

They didn’t need to be told twice. With Tristepin leading the charge, Rubilax held aloft, they dashed through the trees in the direction of the sound. Adamaï roared again, and the ground trembled underfoot – he’d shifted, either to his crackler form or his draconic one, and that meant things were serious.

They’d been following the path to the Zaap at the far edge of the forest, since that was the direction Yugo had gone, and the sounds of combat up ahead told them they were on the right track. The forest terrain didn’t pose a problem to them; Eva and Amalia had grown up here, Tristepin was never more sure-footed than when there was a fight in the making, and even Ruel had dropped his crotchety-old-man posture in favor of getting to Yugo and Adamaï faster. Az flew beside Amalia, chirping frantically. Eva had never been able to figure out if Az could legitimately tell when something had happened to Yugo, but by now she’d learned to trust the tofu’s instincts. She pulled out her bow, eyes straining through the trees for the first hint of the fight, and prayed to Cra that they’d get there in time.

*             *             *

The only thing that was saving the Avengers was the fact that the Bifrost grove was too small for the dragon to effectively fight. Adamaï in his draconic form was smaller than Jahanna’s brother-of-the-unpronounceable-name had been, but he was built along far bulkier proportions, with muscular limbs and a heavy square head, and the grove wasn’t all that big to begin with. In addition, Adamaï had planted himself over Yugo – who was still sitting on the ground between his brother’s feet, staring into the sphere – and seemed determined not to move.

Tony dodged a swipe of claws longer than his arm and fired a pair of plasma bursts at the dragon’s head. He knew already that his weapons would have little to no effect on the dragon – no one’s did – but he wanted to distract him from attempting to chomp Steve. It worked, but it also drew Adamaï’s attention back to Tony, and he had to dive and roll and then dodge again when he nearly ran into a burning tree branch. The Hulk roared somewhere below him and Adamaï roared back, though thankfully he didn’t breathe fire again. The trees around the grove were already going up like… well, like wildfire. This was not going to end well; even if the forest hampered the dragon’s movements, the fire didn’t bother him, and he only needed one Avenger to slip up once, make one bad dodge or one ill-timed attack – and nothing the Avengers could do would stop him.

“Cap!” Tony shouted into his comm. “What’s the plan?”

“Working on it!” Steve shouted back. “We need to get that sphere away from the kid!”

“Yeah,” Tony said. “Sure. We’ll just make a mad dash for the guy the angry dragon’s protecting, that’ll definitely go well.”

“I _said_ I’m still working on—” Steve broke off with a pained grunt and Tony pulled up from another dodge in time to see him go flying across the grove, courtesy of a smack by the dragon’s tail. An arrow shot out of the trees, exploding inches away from the dragon’s eye, and Adamaï bellowed in fury – but Barton had at least managed to divert his attention from Steve. The Hulk leaped across the grove to grab onto the dragon’s tail, bracing his feet to prevent another swing long enough for Steve to get out of the way and – hopefully – for Barton to relocate to a new hiding spot in the trees. Tony couldn’t see Natasha anywhere, which was probably just as well – she and Barton were the most vulnerable of all of them and it was safest for her to stay out of sight.

Another roar and a blast of flame drew Tony’s attention back to the dragon, and he barely managed to dodge and recover before hitting a tree. “Better hurry up with that plan,” he said to Steve over the comm. “Or we’re dragon food.”

*             *             *

Evangelyne could hear shouting up ahead, male voices and what sounded like a Shushu roar, and she could smell burning trees. “Amalia,” she called, and Amalia stopped short, placing both hands flat on the ground. Vines roared up beneath Eva’s feet, carrying her high into the trees, and she leaped onto a branch, scrambling higher to where she could get a look at the Zaap grove. The canopy was in the way, but she had Cra’s sight, and after a moment she put together a clear picture of what was going on.

Adamaï, in dragon form, stood at the center of the Zaap grove, half the trees before him on fire. The brightest Xelor she’d ever seen, shining red and gold, flew around Adamaï’s head, pausing occasionally to fire blasts from his palms. Or at least, she thought he was a Xelor: he didn’t fly like Nox had, upright and floating, and he didn’t appear to be using any time magic, but the expressionless mask and the glowing circle in his chest were unmistakable. Arrows flew past him occasionally to bounce off Adamaï‘s scales, which meant a Cra hidden somewhere in the trees, much like Eva was doing. On the ground, a Feca in a dark blue and white bodysuit flung a small, round metal shield up to clip Adamaï under the chin as he opened his mouth to blast more fire at the Xelor.

Three enemies — no, she realized abruptly, four, because a grotesquely-muscled, green-skinned beast leaped out of the trees onto Adamaï’s back, scrambling up his spine to grab onto his wings and yank. Eva wasn’t sure what this one was; he looked a bit like Tristepin did when he combined with Rubilax, but she’d never seen a green Shushu before. An ogre, maybe; although Ogrest was supposed to have been the first, last, and only ogre in the world, the green beast trying to tear off Adamaï’s wings certainly fit the description.

Adamaï roared in pain and fury, rearing back in an attempt to dislodge the ogre, and finally Eva spotted Yugo. He was sitting cross-legged on the ground between Adamaï’s feet, staring at a strange orange and grey sphere, completely oblivious to the battle raging around him. No wonder Adamaï was mad, if the motley collection of rogues were trying to capture Yugo.

Eva took off again through the treetops, bow in hand, angling for a better shot. Far below, the others were running toward the battle, and she wanted to give them an opening— _there_. She fired, a rapid flurry of arrows that pummeled the Xelor’s chest and sent him tumbling out of the air. The Feca responded almost immediately, flinging his shield up to intercept the last of the volley, but the moment of distraction was all Tristepin needed. He charged shouting out of the trees into the grove, earth-form Rubilax swinging for the Feca’s head.

The Feca dodged, barely, diving to the side and catching his returning shield in time to block Tristepin’s next blow. Eva left her husband to it and got moving again, more slowly this time, looking for the Cra that had to be hidden up here somewhere. Her friends could handle a Xelor and a Feca, and Adamaï could deal with the ogre. All Eva had to do was find the Cra and take him down, and Yugo would be safe.

*             *             *

The bolts of light came out of nowhere and Tony had only half a second to see that they were shaped like arrows, bright and sharp, before they slammed into him, knocking him head over heels. He heard the ring of Steve’s shield catching the last few and managed to stabilize before he hit the ground, already scanning for the new attacker. He didn’t see anyone where the bolts had come from, but he did see a guy with a white cape, a dark tan, and spiky orange hair charging at Steve with a sword. _Crapcrapcrap_ , they did not need the dragon’s – or the Eliatrope’s – friends making things worse. Assuming they were friends, and not random people looking to jump in on a fight.

Then a woman’s voice shouted, “Yugo!” from the edge of the grove, and Tony spun to see a young woman with brown skin and leaf-green hair, wearing a red and green dress that looked like it had been made with leaves and flower petals. She crouched, putting her hands on the ground, and suddenly a massive, thorny vine sprouted beneath her feet, carrying her up into the air above where the Hulk was still trying to yank the dragon’s wings out by the root. She leaped off the vine in midair, threw a small rag doll in front of her, and called, “Adamaï!”

There was a rush of air and suddenly the dragon was back in his humanoid form, grabbing the Hulk’s arm and flinging him toward the green-haired girl. At the same time, the girl clapped her palms together in front of her face and the rag doll ballooned into something the size of a Humvee – an instant before it landed on the Hulk, smashing him to the ground beneath its weight even as the girl landed lightly on top. She hopped off and the rag doll popped back to its previous size – but it was lying on its back on the dazed Hulk’s chest, gripping its feet with its hands and rocking back and forth with a creepily delighted stitch smile.

“Oh-kay,” Tony muttered, because dragons and portal people had been weird enough, but this was a level of magic well beyond that and Tony couldn’t begin to think what the Avengers were going to do about it. Adamaï was still floating in midair above Yugo, and now he stretched his palms toward Tony and let loose blasts of eerie purple light. On the ground, the Hulk recovered and leaped at the green-haired girl; she crouched again and a dome of vines sprouted around her, shielding her from the Hulk’s fists. Tony dodged the dragon’s blasts, weaving through the barrage toward where Steve and the Caped Crusader were fighting shield to sword. “Trade you!” he shouted to Steve.

“Sure!” Steve called back. He dropped flat and Tony swooped above his head, driving his shoulder into the Caped Crusader’s solar plexus. The guy gasped and went limp long enough for Tony to fling him at the Hulk. Frustrated by his inability to break through the vine dome to get to the green-haired girl, the Hulk turned his fury on the Caped Crusader, slamming a fist into his head with enough force to break bone. But the guy just staggered a little, then straightened, grinning fiercely and apparently uninjured by the punch.

“Hah!” he shouted. “Is that all you’ve got?!” The Hulk roared at him, but the Caped Crusader interrupted him with an uppercut that actually snapped the Hulk’s head back. Just for an instant, the Hulk looked surprised – but then he grinned, too. He and the Caped Crusader moved at the same time, grappling and pummeling each other with all the overblown energy of TV wrestlers.

The electric sound of energy blasts against metal caught Tony’s attention and he looked up to see Steve’s shield spinning through the air between Tony and another volley of the dragon’s purple bursts. _Right_. They still had Adamaï to deal with, and the Hulk and the Caped Crusader being happily occupied smashing each other’s faces in didn’t mean they were—

—vines snaked around Tony’s arms and legs and he shouted, throwing all the suit’s energy into the thrusters and blasting up into the air. Thorns screeched along the metal but he managed to break free, just in time to see the green-haired girl, no longer hiding in her dome, fling a handful of small projectiles at him. Tony tried to dodge but they suddenly poofed into melon-sized, bulbous plant things with creepy grinning faces. They latched on to him with tiny nubby limbs and before he could shake them off, they exploded all at once in a series of sharp blasts that rattled him inside the suit, throwing him off-balance and sending him tumbling helplessly into the burning trees.

*             *             *

Evangelyne spotted the other Cra, crouched watching the fight in the grove below, a half-second before he saw her. He was built more like a Sacrier or an Ecaflip than a Cra, short and stocky and muscular, and his bow was a strange black metal thing, but he had an arrow strung and he fired it wildly at her when he saw her through the branches. Eva ducked and returned fire, arrows pelting the branch where he’d been even as he dived to the side and swung to safer footing.

She followed him down but instead of retreating like she’d expected he lunged at her, swinging his bow at her head like a club, and she had to jump to another branch to dodge. She fired a couple more arrows, distracting him long enough for her to grab a branch overhead and swing at him, kicking the bow out of his hands. He spun with the blow, turning it into a kick of his own, and Eva flipped up onto the branch she was hanging from to avoid it. But the fire was creeping around to this side of the grove and she ended up with a lungful of smoke, coughing hard. She managed to snap off another shot in the Cra’s general direction and retreated back through the trees, leaping from branch to branch—

—and nearly ran into him when he appeared in front of her, a short serrated knife in his hand. She leaped back, loosing an arrow that sent him diving low, but he was as sure-footed on the branches as she was and he was back on his feet before she could line up a better shot. He came in close, too close for arrows, knife slashing with careful precision. Eva had to jump sideways onto another branch, a long narrow one that stretched out high over the Zaap grove. The Cra followed, backing her up along the branch. From the corner of her eye Eva could see Amalia throw a handful of seeds toward the Xelor, could see Tristepin and the ogre trading punches, Ruel nowhere in sight ( _and that was just like him, Enutrof coward_ ), but the Cra slashed at her with the knife and she had to skip backward again.

Only to hear a loud _crack_ and feel the branch suddenly dip under her feet.

She had an instant to see her own sudden fear mirrored in the Cra’s eyes, then the branch snapped and they both plummeted toward the ground.


	7. Ceasefire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Good move.”  
> - _The Avengers_

Natasha edged closer to the tree she was hiding behind. She could feel the heat of the forest fire to the side, creeping steadily toward her, but she wasn’t in danger yet. She was more worried about Clint – she’d seen the flashes of light in the trees on the other side of the grove where he’d been hidden, the same flashes that had nearly knocked Stark out of the air a minute ago. Clint could take care of himself against most things, but the new additions to the fight were unlike anything the Avengers had encountered before, and she didn’t like leaving him alone against an unknown foe.

Not that she had much choice. She knew full well she couldn’t do anything against the dragon, not directly, and the newcomers just made everything worse. Her whole career with the Avengers had meant being a mortal among gods, and most of the time it didn’t matter, most of the time she could do something, be useful, regardless. But now…

Movement overhead caught her eye and she looked up to see a slim woman with short blond hair and long pointed elf ears backing up along a branch that jutted out over the grove. She held a bow in one hand, but Clint was right in front of her with a knife and she didn’t have room to draw. She also didn’t appear to have a quiver or any arrows, either, but that hadn’t stopped her from blasting Stark. Clint backed her further along the branch and Natasha knew he was hoping to get the bow away from her – but before he could make his move, the branch cracked and snapped, sending them both plummeting toward the ground.

The blond woman shouted and the redhead with the cape spun around, clearly intending to try to catch her, but the Hulk took advantage of his distraction to land a blow that knocked him sprawling. At the same time, the green-haired plant girl who’d been harassing Stark spun around, hands slamming on the ground. An impossibly huge flower blossomed beneath the blond woman, its puffy white center catching her like a massive crashpad. Clint had been close enough to the woman that he managed to mostly fall on the flower too, and rolled off to land on his feet on the ground. The other archer jumped down too, drawing and firing – and Natasha could see now that the arrows just appeared as she drew, bright golden glowing things that went straight for Clint even as he dived away, disappearing into the trees.

Steve flung his shield again, at an angle which caught the last few arrows and spun toward the archer. She skipped back to dodge it and fired at him, but he’d caught his shield again and deflected the attack – then had to hunker down as Adamaï flung more of those purple blasts at him. The caped man had bounced back to his feet and grabbed the Hulk by the arm, ducking another punch and spinning to fling the Hulk bodily into the trees before diving after him. Natasha gritted her teeth, feeling helpless and frustrated, wondering if she needed to go after Stark, who’d fallen into the burning trees on the other side of the grove, wondering if she even could—

She saw the tracers of Stark’s Jerichoes an instant before they exploded across the center of the grove, scorching the archer and the plant girl alike, and the plant girl cried out in pain. Steve raised his shield again, aiming for the plant girl, clearly intending to take her down while she was distracted. But the archer’s eyes narrowed and before Natasha could shout a warning, she’d loosed a shot that went straight for Steve. He saw it coming at the last second, tried to dodge, but it hit his leg – and instead of piercing his body armor it erupted in ice that wrapped around him, enveloping him in a block of ice up to his chest.

Natasha had never asked Steve how much he remembered of the plane crash that had left him frozen for seventy years; it was none of her business. But now she saw the panic in his eyes, raw terror as he strained against the ice trapping him, and knew that he remembered enough. And enough was too much – the Avengers needed him, needed his levelheaded leadership, and if the ice broke him then their chances of success went from _slim_ to _nearly non-existent_.

Stark had reappeared in the air over the grove, armor charred and smoking, dodging frantically as Adamaï kept throwing purple blasts at him. The archer spun, arm pumping to fire arrows at nearly the speed of a semiautomatic rifle, and Stark juked to try to put Adamaï in her line of fire, but he couldn’t stay still for long, and the plant girl would recover any second now—

“Stark,” Natasha said into her comm. “Draw the dragon away from Yugo.”

“If it was that easy,” Stark snapped back, and she could hear the undercurrent of fear in his voice, “don’t you think I’d have done it already?”

“Figure it out,” she answered, and pulled a tiny injector gun from her belt. She really didn’t want to do this; it would probably end with someone dead – most likely her, and possibly Yugo, because he wasn’t human and wasn't fully grown and she had no idea what a dose of tranquilizer meant to stop much bigger enemies would do to him. But if she didn’t do something then someone was going to end up dead anyway, and it would almost certainly be one of her friends.

“You’d better have a fucking plan,” Stark muttered. She heard him swallow hard, then he shouted, “Geronimo!” and dove straight at Adamaï.

The attack clearly caught the dragon off-guard: he hesitated for an instant, just long enough for Stark to ram him with all the force of his thrusters. Natasha was already moving, running full speed across the grove toward Yugo—

—heard Adamaï shout and Stark cry out in pain—

—the zing of golden arrows and Natasha dove, rolling under the barrage and jabbing Yugo in the neck with the injector gun. Yugo cried out, back arching, and somewhere too close the dragon was screaming too and Natasha flung herself blindly sideways even as arrows slammed into her shoulder and back, and she just had time to see the grass rushing up at her before the world spun away into darkness.

*             *             *

Evangelyne saw the red-haired woman come out of nowhere and dive for Yugo, and she fired desperately but couldn’t stop her from doing something that made Yugo scream in agony. Eva fired again, arrows slamming into the woman. Those were Sram tactics, hiding in the shadows and striking from behind, and Eva could only pray that the woman hadn’t killed Yugo. Adamaï was screaming too, flinging the Xelor away from him to crash hard into a tree. Then Yugo went limp and slumped to the ground, the strange sphere dropping from his hands to land beside him, its orange glow dim and its spinning stilled.

“Yugo!” Adamaï screamed, and Amalia gasped wordlessly, eyes wide with fear. Adamaï dove for his brother, but even as he landed beside him, Eva’s Cra eyes spotted the faint movement of Yugo’s chest, the slightest flutter of breath, and her own heart started beating again.

“Adamaï!” she called. “Get him out of here!”

Adamaï growled, but scooped his brother into his arms and took off into the air, back toward the Sadida palace. Eva drew another arrow and trained it on the Sram woman, who was beginning to stir. Beside Eva, Amalia held up her doll, eyes on the Xelor where he was slowly, painfully getting to his feet. She could hear Tristepin and the ogre pounding on each other somewhere nearby in the forest, but Tristepin was laughing and she wasn’t too worried. The Feca was still trapped by Eva’s ice arrow, his shield frozen to his chest, no longer a threat, but from the corner of her eye she could see the other Cra standing behind her in the trees. He’d found his bow and he had an arrow pointed at her and Amalia.

The Xelor staggered a little and held up both hands. “Okay,” he said, his voice hollow and metallic and unnervingly like Nox’s. “Your guy’s safe. Can we maybe put the weapons down?”

“You tried to kill him!” Amalia snarled.

“Ami,” Eva said quietly. She wasn’t sure whether to believe the Xelor, but if the Sram’s goal had actually been to break Yugo out of whatever he’d been trapped in, then maybe talking wasn’t a bad idea. Still, she wasn’t about to put down her weapons, not until she was sure the other group had disarmed first. “Ruel!” she called; hopefully he was still around and knew what she wanted...

Light flashed off a golden shovel and Eva saw the other Cra go still. Ruel had appeared behind him, shovel edge held to his throat. The Cra scowled, but slowly, deliberately, eased the tension off his bow and lowered it to the ground. The Sram was still trying to push herself up, but whatever weapon she’d used on Yugo was nowhere in sight. Eva glanced at Amalia out of the corner of her eye; Amalia scowled but nodded, and they both lowered their weapons. Ruel was the last to move, stepping away from the Cra and spinning his shovel to lean against his shoulder.

“All right,” Eva said sharply. “What did you do to Yugo?”

*             *             *

It made sense for the Avengers to stand down first – they needed to prove they intended no harm, not the other way around – but it still made Tony uneasy. Technically, he wasn’t disarmed as long as he still had the suit, but with Barton having put down his bow and Steve frozen, the Avengers were still two men short if things went south again. “So,” he muttered to himself, “don’t let things go south.”

Because he knew how this was going to play out. Steve, the regular face of the group, was doing really well at not showing just how close he was to a full-on PTSD breakdown, but probably didn’t have the attention to spare to actually hold a conversation. Barton was no diplomat. And while Natasha had more and better negotiation skills than all of them put together, she was wobbling where she sat in the grass, favoring one shoulder and looking dazed.

Which left Tony.

He took a careful step forward, drawing the attention of the two women and their accomplice. Now that they weren’t in the heat of battle, he could get a better look at them. The green-haired girl appeared to be in her late teens, with her hair done up in a high ponytail and a brown and red crown over her brow. Her flower-petal dress was elegant despite the amount of leg showing in the gaps between the petals, and she had touches of golden jewelry in her hair and at her neck. She wore simple square sandals, but she still stood taller than Tony, and she was glaring down her nose at him with all the haughty offense of a princess.

Her companion, the archer, wore a high-collared, shoulder-baring black bodysuit with gloves that reached to her upper arms and sturdy brown thigh-high boots. Her blond hair hung short and straight to her chin, but did nothing to hide her long pointed elf ears. She was pale to the first girl’s dark brown, with freckles and sharp green eyes. She, too, looked young – early twenties at best.

The last of the three, who’d only turned up to menace Clint, was definitely not young. His eyebrows, beard, and hair – or rather, what was left of it, drawn back in a low ponytail – were white, his skin wrinkled and spotted with age, his nose craggy. He wore ragged green trousers with patches on the knees, a sleeveless gray jerkin, and battered sandals that consisted of cloth bolted to splintered chunks of wood. His weapon was the only thing about him that looked well-cared-for: a tall… halberd? Tony wasn’t really sure; it had a curved blade like an axe, with a golden body and a steel edge that curved into a hook on one side, but the blade was set at the very top of the pole like a shovel, rather than at the side like a halberd.

All three of them were watching him suspiciously, so he raised his hands a little higher, trying to look harmless. “You’ll, uh, probably have a hard time believing this,” he said, “but we weren’t actually trying to kill anyone.” The plant princess _hmphed_ , but the other two didn’t say anything, and Tony continued, “A friend of ours was kidnapped, and we came here looking for someone we hope can help us find him. We had no idea that thing would do… whatever it did.”

The blonde glanced down at the sphere. “What is it?” she asked. She spoke with an accent, inexplicably French the same way Thor and the other Norse god-slash-alien-whatevers sounded inexplicably British. Yugo and Adamaï had had French accents as well, come to think of it, and Tony really wanted to ask someone about that, because what the hell.

But now was definitely not the time. “We, ah, don’t know,” he admitted. “We thought it was just a tracking device the kidnapper left behind, but then the Eliatrope and the dragon showed up and it went haywire.”

“Its emissions have subsided almost entirely, sir,” Jarvis added in Tony’s ear. “It’s at less than ten percent of its original power.”

“Good,” Tony muttered back. “Keep me posted.”

The blonde’s eyes had narrowed, and she crossed the grass to crouch beside the sphere, studying it curiously. Behind her, the plant princess craned her neck to see but didn’t actually approach. “Eva,” she said suddenly. “Doesn’t it remind you of—”

“Yes,” the blonde said. “It does.” She rose from her crouch, staring down at the sphere with her fists clenched.

“We’re trying to find someone we think can tell us what it is,” Tony said carefully. “An Eliatrope woman named Jahanna.” He didn’t miss the look the two girls exchanged at that: ah- _hah_. “You know where we can find her?”

The blonde’s mouth thinned and she looked at the plant princess, then at the old guy. Tony held his breath. They almost certainly knew what was going on here, could most likely help the Avengers rescue Thor. But only if the Avengers hadn’t fucked up too badly by bringing the sphere here (how could they have known?), by letting Yugo see it (not that they could’ve stopped him), by fighting back when Adamaï attacked (they’d be dead if they hadn’t, and then where would Thor be?).

Finally the blonde turned back to Tony. “All right,” she said coolly. “We’ll take you to her.”


	8. The Sadida Kingdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Je vous rappelle que nous sommes au palais du Roi Sadida, alors comportez vous comme des gentilshommes et avec courtoisie."_  
>  _"Allons Eva, pour qui tu me prends? Je suis un chevalier! Alors la gentilhommerie, ça me connaît!"_  
>  -Wakfu S1E19, "Le Royaume Sadida"

Of course, it wasn’t as easy as just going to find Jahanna. First they had to unfreeze Steve, which they did with Tony’s lasers to carve away the biggest chunks of ice and using burning sticks from the forest fire to melt the rest. As they worked, they traded introductions. The plant princess turned out to be an actual princess: “I am Amalia Sheran Sharm, daughter of King Oakbeard Sheran Sharm of the Sadida,” she said haughtily. “This is my bodyguard Evangelyne” – the blonde archer nodded coolly – “and Ruel Stroud, bounty hunter.” Stroud glanced up from scratching his nose and grinned, revealing several missing teeth.

“Tony Stark,” Tony offered in return. “The Capsicle here” —ignoring Steve's glare, because Steve glaring was Steve not panicking and that was good— “is Captain Steve Rogers, and those two over there are Agents Barton and Romanoff.” He waved toward where Barton had gone to check on Natasha and stand guard over the mystery sphere.

“A captain?” Princess Amalia asked, sounding suddenly curious. “Like a sea captain?”

“Army,” Steve answered tightly. He was half-unfrozen, working his arms to break away the remaining ice around his chest, but he was still way too tense. Under the pretense of steadying him while he kicked his legs free of the ice, Tony gripped Steve's shoulder and shook him gently. Steve shuddered, but Tony thought he relaxed a little.

“Whose army?” Evangelyne asked. “That's not Bonta's uniform, or Brakmar's…”

“Uh,” Tony said. “Actually, well, you're probably going to have a hard time believing this, too, but we're not from around here.”

Evangelyne gave him a flat look. “I think we can believe it,” she said dryly.

Tony rolled his eyes. “I mean we're not from this world,” he said, and gestured to the Bifrost. “We came through the Bifrost, or whatever you call it on this end, from a world called Asgard—”

“We've heard about Asgard,” Princess Amalia said.

Tony blinked, feeling like an idiot. Of course they'd have heard of Asgard, if Loki and Jahanna were living here. “Right,” he said. “Well, technically we're from another planet called Earth. Same, uh, region as Asgard, I guess, but we aren't Norse demigods.” He reached up to rub a hand over his face and realized he still had his helmet on. That was… probably not a good sign, if he was so used to being in the suit that he forgot about it, Pepper was already on his case about spending too much time in it. He sighed and pulled the helmet off.

Only to find all three of the natives staring at him in surprise.

“What?” he asked.

“Err… nothing,” Amalia said, and smiled sheepishly. “It's just… I didn't think Xelors could take their masks off.” She paused. “Although I suppose if you’re not from this world, you’re not actually a Xelor, are you?”

Tony glanced at Steve, who looked as puzzled as Tony felt. “What's a Xelor?”

“Time mages…?” Amalia said. “They wear masks just like yours, and the glowing heart and everything.” She made a motion over her chest to indicate the suit’s arc reactor.

Tony sighed. “Why does everyone think I'm some kind of wizard?” he said. “No, I'm not a time lord. I'm just a guy who built a suit.”

“And I suppose,” Evangelyne said, nodding toward Steve, “you're not really a Feca.”

Steve shook his head. “No, ma’am,” he said. “I'm just a soldier.” He was free of the ice now, brushing the last bits off his uniform and looking significantly less tense.

“What about them?” Tony asked, hooking a thumb toward Barton and Natasha. “You got fancy names for them, too?”

“Later,” Steve cut in brusquely. “We need to get moving.” He looked over at Amalia. “Ma'am, if this is part of your kingdom, I suggest you get someone up here fast to deal with that fire before it takes out the Bifrost.”

“The Zaap?” Amalia said. “Oh, that's not a problem. Eva?”

“Right,” Evangelyne said. She pulled out her bow and drew, a golden arrow appearing between her fingers and aiming for the sky, up past the billowing smoke of the forest fire to the puffy white clouds beyond. Tony frowned, not sure what she intended to do, but Evangelyne was already firing, the arrow somehow shooting true all the way up into the heart of one of the clouds. Golden energy crackled along the cloud, turning it dark grey and heavy, and just like that, it began to rain over the forest.

“Wait,” Tony said. “Did you just—That's not how rain works, you can't just—”

But apparently she _could_ just, because the rain was pattering down on the burning trees, hissing as it hit the flames and sending up thick black smoke. And sure, Thor could call storms, but he at least seemed to have to work to attract an actual storm cloud, nature sped up rather than just boom! rain, and what the hell was up with this world, anyway—  

“That'll be fine,” Amalia said airily. “This place was getting thick anyway, it could use a bit of a burn.”

Tony flung up his hands. “Fine,” he said. “All right, you can just make magic rain. Technically I haven’t had breakfast yet, and how does it go, believe six impossible things, so sure, why not.” He shook his head, pretending not to see the way Steve was trying to hide a smirk. “Let’s go before I have to take a stab at impossible thing number two.”

*             *             *

They settled on having Tony de-suit and convert the suit to its backpack form around the mystery sphere in order to carry it, and hopefully the suit’s various radiation shieldings would help negate the sphere’s effects. The suit wasn’t designed to carry anything in that form, but Jarvis made it work with only a few odd lumps, and Tony instructed him to do whatever active disruption he could of the sphere’s radiations. It was still at less than fifteen percent of its original output, so Tony hoped that they’d have enough time to get to Jahanna and figure out an alternate containment solution before it attacked her the way it had attacked Yugo. If not…

They carefully avoided bringing up what would happen if not.

They found Bruce and the Caped Crusader a little ways into the forest, sprawled next to each other on the ground in exhaustion. Bruce was, as usual post-Hulkout, barely conscious but otherwise all right, while the Caped Crusader was bruised and battered yet smiling wide enough to reveal longish fangs. “My husband,” Evangelyne said wryly, “Sir Tristepin Percidal, Knight of the Order of Shushu Guardians.”

“It was a magnificent battle!” Sir Percidal declared from the ground. He pulled a stubby red-and-black sword, roughly the size and shape of a child’s toy and with a large black-pupiled eye set in the hilt, from his belt and waved it vaguely overhead. “Almost as good as the Dragon-Pig!”

"He's pretty good," a new voice, deep and rough, said thoughtfully. "How many elements does he have? I've never seen a shushu like that."

Tony looked around for the source of the voice – he could've sworn it was coming from Sir Percidal's direction, but there was no one else there. At least he wasn't the only one confused; Steve and Barton were both looking around as well. Evangelyne noticed and said, even more dryly, "And that's Rubilax." She motioned toward the sword Sir Percidal was still holding aloft.

Tony frowned at the sword, not sure what she meant – and then the eye embedded in the sword's hilt _blinked_ , its lower eyelid rising to give the impression of a smirk. "Oh-ho-ho," the voice chuckled, and this time Tony could see the way the sword moved slightly in time to the words. "What's the matter, never seen a shushu before?"

"Uh," Tony said.

Barton elbowed Tony lightly in the side. "So what was that about impossible thing number two?"

Tony groaned.

*             *             *

Eventually they managed to get on the road, following the path Natasha had found through the forest in the direction of the massive tree Tony'd seen earlier. Tony had given up on trying to make sense of the world about halfway through Sir Percidal's enthusiastic explanation of shushu demons and the knights who guarded them, when he'd finally realized that the reason Percidal looked just a little strange had nothing to do with his bright orange hair, or the jet-black mark that ran along his left cheekbone into his hair, or his eyes which had only pale beige irises and apparently no pupils, and everything to do with the fact that _he didn't have a nose_. Sure, Tony hung out with a real-life Norse god and a super-soldier from the forties, and one of his best friends turned into a giant green rage monster when his heart rate got too high, but somehow it was Sir Tristepin Percidal's lack of a nose that pushed Tony past the I-give-up line.

The other Avengers didn’t look much better than Tony felt, either. Steve had the distant look he got sometimes that meant he was remembering his war (or, more likely, whatever had happened when he'd crashed the HYDRA ship into the Arctic). Bruce was nominally conscious, but bleary-eyed and snappish. Natasha was paler than usual, though she otherwise showed no sign of pain from the energy arrows she'd taken to the shoulder and back, but Barton was still watching her like, well, a hawk.

For their part, after Sir Percidal had wound down on the subject of shushus, the four natives had fallen into the companionable silence of people who were accustomed to one another's presence. Princess Amalia still had her nose in the air, looking for all the world like the Avengers were a pack of smelly alley cats that she hadn’t been able to chase off. She’d acquired a small yellow puffball of a bird at some point, which sat on her shoulder and glowered at the Avengers. The old man Stroud had said almost nothing the whole time, while Evangelyne had done a cursory once-over to ensure Sir Perdical wasn’t seriously injured, then gone back to keeping an eye on the Avengers.

It took them half an hour or so to reach the Sadida Kingdom proper, which turned out to be a quaint, but surprisingly large, Disney-esque forest city with buildings embedded in enormous flower bulbs, carved from the trunks of massive trees, or made of simple wood and thatching. As they walked through the streets, Tony found himself up against impossible thing number four: while the women mostly looked like Princess Amalia, with green hair and brown skin, the men looked like… Tony wasn’t sure what they looked like, because their faces were entirely covered with hair like bizarre green Shetland ponies, knotted into elaborate beards under their chins. Both the men and women wore little, mostly loincloths or short skirts and breast wraps, all made of huge leaves and flower petals and cloth woven from soft reeds; and almost all of them were barefoot. They waved and called out to the princess as they caught sight of her, and she dropped the snooty vibe, waving and smiling with what appeared to be genuine delight.

Sir Percidal seemed to be getting some attention, too; Tony heard a few voices calling for “the Ginger Warrior” and saw a handful of children holding up wooden swords. Percidal waved back, grinning wide and dopey, and leaned over to tell the Avengers in a stage-whisper, “I’m quite famous, you know. Just a few years ago I—”

“You can tell them later, Pinpin,” Evangelyne interrupted. She motioned ahead of them, to where the path rose up along a wooden ramp and cut through a tree trunk bigger than Tony’s San Diego garage had been. “We’re almost there.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sir Percidal muttered, looking dejected. “You never let me tell the story.”

“Because every time you do,” Princess Amalia said, “Razortime grows two feet taller and Nox gets more minions!”

“Hey!” Sir Percidal protested. “Are you saying I umbrella-ish—”

“ _Embellish_ ,” Evangelyne corrected him. “And yes, you do.” She hooked an arm through his and leaned against his shoulder. “You really don’t need to, you know. You were more than heroic enough as it was.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Tony saw Barton make a gagging face at Natasha; saw her try to suppress a snicker and Steve glare them both into submission. Fortunately, they were spared any further flirting by Amalia leading them out the other side of the tree trunk onto an enormous pink flower, its petals spread flat and wide like a balcony over a steep drop down to the forest floor far below. She paused expectantly, looking up and across to a narrow gap in another building-sized tree trunk, and before Tony could make a joke about giant insect trolleys, the flower petals closed up around them and the whole thing began to move upwards like an elevator.

The motion caught Tony off-guard and he staggered; Steve caught him by the arm and smiled ruefully. “Impossible thing number five,” Tony muttered. “Giant flower elevators. I should’ve seen that coming.”

“Probably,” Steve agreed.

When the flower opened again, they stood at the gap in the other tree, which turned out to be an entryway to a vast complex of wooden walkways, balconies, buildings, and other treehouse architecture that would have put the Swiss Family Robinson to shame, all stretched out through the trees beyond the gap. People were more businesslike up here, bowing cursorily to Princess Amalia or simply ducking out of the way as the group passed, though Tony spotted more than a few turning back to stare at the Avengers.

They came around the curve of a tree trunk and Tony saw a man walking along a crossway up ahead, tall and slim and carrying a little kid on his shoulders. His head was tilted back to look up at the kid, and he was smiling bright and wide. At first, the only reason Tony even noticed him was because he was the first guy he’d seen in this place who didn’t have green hair covering his face, and the kid had a brown cat-eared hat like the ones Yugo and Jahanna had worn. Then the kid spotted the Avengers and their escorts, and kicked his heels against the guy’s chest. “Papa!” he said. The man turned to look at them, and Tony found himself confronted with impossible thing number six.

Because the guy in front of them, looking for all the world like some yuppie Tribeca dad out for a stroll with his kid, was none other than Loki Laufeyson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I missed last week's update! Travel plus unexpected cold ate my writing time. I will try to stay on track as much as possible through the holidays!


	9. Loki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is the Tesseract. It has the potential to wipe out the planet.”  
> - _The Avengers_

The look of complete and utter shock on Loki’s face would have been hilarious, except that Tony was pretty sure he and the other Avengers were all wearing the exact same expression. Loki looked… _different_. His clothes were more open: a green vest, a high-collared, sleeveless black jacket, and loose black pants with high boots and a gold-edged sash. His hair was longer, curling at the ends and caught at the nape of his neck with a simple gold clasp, and was braided through with green beads.

But it was more than just surface differences. In the moment before he’d spotted them, he’d looked young. Happy. Almost gentle, and _that_ was not a word Tony had ever thought he’d use to describe the cackling madman who’d destroyed most of Manhattan, murdered Phil Coulson and dozens of others, and killed a titan. Yet the way he’d been smiling at the kid on his shoulders (the kid who’d called him _papa_ , and what the hell was up with that?) had been bright and genuine, and Tony could suddenly understand why Thor had had such a hard time processing the crazy version of Loki who’d attacked Earth three years ago.

Then Loki’s expression shuttered, going closed and dark and grim, and Tony saw Princess Amalia and Evangelyne trade an uneasy look.

“They showed up at the Zaap,” Amalia explained to Loki, sounding more apologetic than the disgust Tony’d expected. “They’re looking for Jahanna.”

Loki’s mouth tightened, and he swung the kid down from his shoulders. “Chibi,” he said quietly, addressing the kid without looking away from the Avengers, “go with Evangelyne and Tristepin.”

The kid started toward them eagerly. Abruptly Tony remembered how Yugo had made a beeline for the mystery sphere, and stepped aside, out from behind Evangelyne. Sure enough, the kid veered toward Tony – but Evangelyne caught him by the arm. “Come here, Chibi,” she said.

“But I wanna see,” the kid protested, and tugged against her grip, trying to get past her to Tony.

“Chibi,” Evangelyne said sharply, and when he didn’t stop, picked him up and settled him on her hip. To Loki she said, “They’ve got something that apparently lures Eliatropes. It already hurt Yugo. Be careful.”

Loki nodded. He still hadn’t looked away from the Avengers, and the dark intensity of his green-eyed stare was unnerving, albeit more familiar than the bright smile. Chibi was squirming in Evangelyne’s arms, reaching for Tony and the mystery sphere, and Evangelyne hurried away. Sir Percidal went with her, attempting to distract Chibi by making faces at him. Princess Amalia lingered for a second, looking warily between Loki and the Avengers, but when Loki didn’t say anything, she finally, reluctantly, turned to leave as well, motioning for Stroud to follow her.

When they were gone, Loki held out a hand to Tony. “Give it to me,” he said sharply.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Tony said. “The suit's radiation-shielded, Jarvis is trying to actively disrupt the emissions—”

“And doing a poor job of it,” Loki said. He waggled the fingers of his outstretched hand pointedly.

Tony bit back several snarky retorts to that – don’t taunt the madman – and reluctantly swung the suit-pack off his shoulders to the ground. It unfolded enough for him to reach in and pull out the sphere; before he could stand and cross to where Loki still stood several feet away, Loki gestured again and the sphere floated out of Tony’s hand and through the air to Loki. He didn’t quite touch it, just held it floating between his palms for a moment, frowning. Then he made a swirling gesture with both hands and the sphere vanished.

For a dizzying instant Tony panicked ( _the arc reactor had failed, he was going to die, shrapnel in his heart or the suit falling to the ground_ ). The world swayed around him and he had to stop, had to get his breath back. The sphere, it had to have been the sphere, it sounded like the Tesseract which Loki had once said sounded like an arc reactor. Tony hadn’t even realized the sphere had been affecting him, too – but it had, somehow, and he swallowed hard. Steve was giving him a worried look and Tony forced a smile.

Loki ignored them, turning sharply on one heel and stalking away across a wooden walkway. It was exactly the same sort of imperious motion Thor did every once in a while, the kind of thing that reminded you that he’d been raised a prince for a thousand-odd years, and that despite being generally good-natured about Earth’s relative lack of strict monarchies, he still sometimes expected to be followed without question. Only Loki was much better at it, and almost without meaning to Tony found himself trailing along in Loki's wake with the other Avengers. Bruce was waking back up, watching their surroundings warily, while Steve and Natasha were being carefully blank-faced, and Barton looked mostly like he was trying to resist the urge to stick a knife in Loki’s back.

Loki led them along a couple more wooden bridges and finally into a sort of airy patio, its walls mostly open to the forest but well-equipped with low chairs and cushions made of leaves and flowers. He dropped into the tallest of the chairs, slouching with his legs stretched out before him as if he found the whole thing utterly unappealing. Tony glanced at Steve, but the captain just took a seat in another of the chairs, as if this was perfectly normal and they weren't having a meeting with a guy who'd tried, multiple times, to kill ( _and save,_ Tony reminded himself) them all.

After the rest of the Avengers had seated themselves, Loki fixed Steve with a lazy stare. "So," he said coolly, "tell me what happened to my brother."

Steve blinked in surprise and looked over at Tony – no one had said anything about Thor yet – but before either of them could speak Loki continued in that same bored tone, "The lot of you would not be here without him save that something had happened to him. Now," and his voice took on an edge, "tell me what happened."

"All right," Steve said evenly. "Thor's been kidnapped. The thing that took him left behind that sphere."

He explained the rest of it, letting Tony jump in to describe Fandral's arrival at Stark Tower, although neither of them mentioned what had happened – whatever it had been – between Tony and Frigga. Loki listened in silence, eyes half-lidded, seeming disinterested, and Tony hated that he couldn't read him at all. It would have been nice to know what Loki was thinking, whether he'd be open to their request for help, whether he'd laugh in their faces and send them packing. Tony reminded himself that Thor had seemed happy the last few times he'd mentioned Loki, that Loki had just called Thor _my brother_ , and maybe Tony was just overthinking this, he was worrying too much—

Steve finished explaining the fight in the Bifrost grove, adding, "And then your friends brought us here." He leaned forward a little, the patented Captain America earnestness turned up to eleven. (Tony knew by now that Steve was savvier than most people gave him credit for, but maybe Loki wouldn't know that yet.) "We need your help," Steve said. "Yours and Jahanna's. We don't think it's a coincidence that the creature that took Thor was looking for something called an Eliacube, when it hasn't been that long since you found the first Eliatrope in ages—"

Loki's mouth curled in a smirk. "Congratulations, Captain, you have demonstrated a basic level of reasoning. Yes," he continued, ignoring the way Barton had sat forward, a snarl on his face and one hand opening and closing in frustration, "the Eliacube is another name for the Tesseract, or more accurately, the Tesseract is what the Eliacube came to be called after it arrived in the Nine Realms."

“All right,” Natasha said. “So that thing wants the Tesseract. Why?”

“And,” Steve added, “why now? The Tesseract has been in more or less active use on Earth for over seventy years. Is it because Jahanna showed up? Thor said way back when that no one had seen Eliatropes since before Asgard rose to power.”

Loki steepled his fingers, expression turning thoughtful. “That… is a good question,” he admitted.

“Is she here?” Tony asked. “Jahanna? She might know something—” He broke off as Loki’s gaze flicked to him, fixing him with an unnervingly intense stare. “We could use her help,” he finished defensively.

“You ask me to put my wife in danger,” Loki said, and dammit but Tony just _could not_ read him, could not tell what was going on behind that arsenic-green stare. Insane Loki had been fairly easy to read, would have been showing anger or annoyance or amusement by now, and while Tony definitely didn’t want to go back to crazy-god town, it would’ve been nice to get _some_ feedback, something other than creepy blankness.

“We don’t have much choice,” Steve said. “The thing that took Thor has already put all of Asgard in danger—”

“—and now that you’ve brought its device here, you’ve likely put this world in danger as well,” Loki said sharply. "I would give you credit for that little ploy, except I highly doubt any of you is capable of such cunning." He sat forward abruptly, the movement reminding Tony of a lounging hunting cat who'd spotted prey. "Jahanna is coming," he said. "I warn you now, should you cause her harm, I will take another army to Midgard, and this time I will not actively hamper their efforts to destroy your realm."

He said it flatly, a statement of fact rather than a threat, all the more frightening because Tony knew that he was telling the truth, that the only reason the Chitauri invasion had failed three years ago was because Loki's plan had been for them to fail. Out of the corner of his eye Tony saw Steve press his lips together, saw Barton scowl, saw Natasha put a hand on his arm.

But before any of them could say anything, movement in the doorway caught their attention, and Tony turned to see Jahanna enter the patio. She wore a simple dress and sandals, not the armor from the Infinity War, but otherwise looked more or less as he remembered: reddish-brown skin, dark eyes, long black hair, a red cat-eared hat – except that she was heavily pregnant, walking with slow careful balance, one hand resting on her stomach. She paused to give the Avengers a critical once-over, then crossed to where Loki had risen from his seat to greet her. He took her by the shoulders and kissed her forehead, suddenly and startlingly tender, then carefully helped her into the chair he'd just vacated.

Tony realized his mouth was hanging open and snapped it closed. Beside him, Steve had stood up as well, forties manners coming to the fore. "Ma'am," Steve said politely.

"Captain," Jahanna answered coolly, then turned back to Loki. “So what did you tell Tikal that sent him rushing off to find Phaeris?” she asked. “I haven’t seen him that upset since Jiva tried to blackmail us.”

“I’m afraid that’s our fault, ma’am,” Steve said.

She leaned back a little, a queen on her throne, regarding Steve with the same lazy expression Loki had worn earlier. “Does this have to do with what happened to Yugo?”

Steve glanced at Tony, and Tony could read the uncertainty in his eyes: the sphere had affected both Yugo and the kid Chibi over varying distances, yet Jahanna seemed not to have noticed its effects.

As if she’d read his thoughts, Jahanna said, “You’ll forgive me if I’m a little behind on events. I was sleeping.” She patted her pregnant stomach.

“Yes,” Steve admitted. He gave her a very abbreviated version of what had happened, finishing with, “We’re hoping you can identify the sphere, but it seems to have a, uh, adverse effect on Eliatropes…” He looked at Loki, clearly hoping for support.

Jahanna, too, raised an eyebrow at Loki. He returned the look, but Jahanna didn’t blink and after a minute, Loki said defensively, “I’m not going to show it to you. I watched it try to snare Chibi—”

Jahanna’s expression darkened. “What did it do?”

“It was trying to…” He made a sharp gesture. “Attach to his wakfu. Drain it. Had his powers been more developed, it would have—” He broke off, shaking his head. “I’ll not show it to you.”

“Then I’m not going to be able to identify it, am I?” Jahanna said pointedly.

“Jahanna—” Loki said.

Steve looked at Tony again; Tony knew he was considering offering to do something – maybe restrain Jahanna if necessary – and shook his head. Loki was already on edge about the Avengers’ presence, and anything that would put them too close to his pregnant wife would not go over well.

Loki and Jahanna matched stares for another moment, then Jahanna reached up to touch his cheek. “I trust you,” she said gently.

Loki sighed, but reluctantly stepped back and held out his hands. “Don’t touch it,” he warned.

Jahanna nodded, settling herself in the chair and gripping its arms. Loki made that swirling gesture and the sphere appeared between his palms. As it materialized, Tony felt a rush of… _something,_ like an arc reactor powering on for the first time, like being near a lightning strike. Jahanna’s attention had snapped to the sphere, her hands reaching for it even as Loki backed further away. Tony swallowed and tried not to look at the sphere himself, and when Bruce reached over to grip his shoulder he didn’t shake him off.

Loki only left the sphere out for a few seconds, just long enough for Jahanna to begin to stand, still reaching for it. He swirled it away again and she collapsed back into the chair, eyes going wide and startled. Loki was beside her in an instant, kneeling at her feet, one hand on her arm to steady her, the other against her jaw. “Jahanna,” he said. “Jahanna, look at me.”

“I’m fine,” she said, but her voice was shaky, barely a whisper, and her gaze was still unfocused. “I’m all right.”

“You are _not_ fine,” Loki said sharply. “You should—”

Jahanna shuddered, dark eyes finally fixing on Loki, her expression enough to silence him. “Mechasms,” she whispered. “It’s Mechasm work.” Loki went abruptly still, and Tony felt an uneasy chill go down his spine.

“What are Mechasms?” Steve asked carefully.

“The Mechasms destroyed our homeworld and nearly wiped us out twice, Eliatropes and dragons alike,” Jahanna whispered. “And now… now they’ve found us again.”

She looked up at them, eyes hollow with dread. “Now they’ve come to finish what they started.”


	10. Yugo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Bientôt tu seras à nouveau un grand roi Eliatrope. Et ce jour là, nous viendrons à toi pour que tu nous guides comme tu l'as fait par le passé.”_  
>  -Wakfu S2E26, “Le Peuple Eliatrope”

Evangelyne had only just handed a subdued Chibi off to Minister Thicktuft when Amalia caught up to her, Ruel trailing behind. Amalia looked worried, and Eva couldn’t blame her. Loki’s reaction to the strangers had been… unnerving, to say the least; Eva hadn’t seen him look like that since his earliest days in the Sadida Kingdom, when he’d still been half-crazy from whatever had happened to him in the other world. None of the Brotherhood knew the details of Loki’s past – he’d said only, _Terrible things happened. I caused many of them, though not all of my own will_ – and Yugo had refused to allow any of them to press him further. _Phaeris says his heart is still good,_ Yugo had said, in that voice that was equal parts idealism and authority. _If he wants to do right, if he wants to make up for whatever it was that he did, then who are we to tell him no?_

And in the years since his arrival, Loki had definitely done right by both the Sadida Kingdom as a whole, and Yugo and the Brotherhood in particular. He was a savvy politician, a reserved counterbalance to King Sheran Sharm’s sometimes boisterous good will; and a good teacher, more than willing to spend hours going over this matter or that with Yugo or Amalia or whoever else asked. Oh, he had his moments – he’d done a magical experiment once, attempting to recreate some work of the legendary alchemist Otomai, which had blown up three workrooms and caused a bizarre fungus to spread through half the palace before the Sadida were able to get it under control; and sometimes Evangelyne wanted to grab him by the shoulders and make him give her a straight answer instead of dancing around whatever question she’d asked, just for the fun of watching her frustration – but he was still a good friend and an asset to both the Sadida Kingdom and the soon-to-arrive Eliatropes.

But that didn’t mean Loki’s past couldn’t come back to haunt – or hurt – the Brotherhood now.

“I don’t like this, Eva,” Amalia said. “Whoever they are… They say they’re peaceful, but look what they did to Yugo!” She crossed her arms. “And it’s pretty clear Loki thinks they’re bad news.”

“They seemed nice enough to me,” Tristepin offered.

Amalia rolled her eyes with a _hmph!_ ; Eva smiled tiredly at him and shook her head. Tristepin made the face that meant he knew they thought what he’d said was stupid and didn’t understand why, but before he could press them, Eva said, “We should go check on Yugo. If he’s awake, he might be able to tell us what that sphere was trying to do.”

Amalia was moving almost before she’d finished speaking. Tristepin followed, calling at her to wait up, but Eva hung back to walk beside Ruel. “What do you think?” she asked him quietly.

Ruel didn’t say anything for a minute, but Eva knew it wasn’t because he didn’t have an answer. He might be a smelly, crotchety, miserly old coward, but he was also a _canny_ old coward. Enutrofs who weren’t, tended not to survive to grow old. Finally he said, “Well, I wouldn’t want to meet any of ‘em in a dark alley. That Sram’s something to watch out for, especially.” He paused. “And the Xelor, heh, he’d make a better Enutrof than a Xelor.”

Eva gave him a sideways look. “Are you a snuffle now?”

Ruel just grinned and tapped the side of his nose. “Never doubt an Enutrof, Eva.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eva muttered. But it was still good advice, and added weight to her own gut feelings about the strangers. Namely, that whether or not the strangers _meant_ no harm, the Brotherhood of Tofu was probably going to have to save the world.

Again.

*             *             *

When they reached the door to the room Adamaï and Yugo shared, they found the young Eniripsa Timov hovering anxiously outside. He turned at their approach, wings buzzing, and broke into a relieved smile. “Princess!” he said. “I’m so glad you’re here. I saw Adamaï bring Yugo in, and he looked hurt, but Adamaï only growls when I offer to check on him…” He trailed off as Amalia ignored him to hurry through the door curtain.

“It’s all right,” Eva said. “Adamaï’s protective about Yugo, you know that.”

“Yeah,” Timov agreed reluctantly. “But I want to do something to help him…”

“Come on,” Eva said, and held open the curtain for him. Timov was good at what he did; he’d been trained by his aunt Nausea, the Eniripsa who’d saved Amalia’s life years ago, before the Brotherhood had been the Brotherhood. Nausea had sent Timov to the Sadida Kingdom last year with instructions to “find that nice Sadida girl and see if she can get you a job.” Apparently Nausea hadn’t ever quite realized that the nice Sadida girl was in fact the Sadida princess, which had resulted in Timov being exceptionally star-struck once he’d found out, and he had never quite got over being timid around her.

But he followed Eva, Tristepin, and Ruel into Yugo’s room, and flew straight over to where Yugo lay unmoving on the bed, Az the tofu tucked sadly under his chin. Amalia sat beside him, stroking his brow beneath his hat worriedly, while Adamaï in human form knelt on Yugo’s other side and glared at all of them. Timov gave Adamaï a wide berth, but though Adamaï growled, he didn’t actually stop him when Timov leaned over Yugo to check his vital signs, bright pink magic gathering around his hands.

After a couple of minutes, Timov straightened, rubbing the back of his head uneasily. “Physically, he’s fine,” he said. “There’s traces of some kind of sleeping potion, but it’s pretty much worn off by now. He’s just… not waking up.”

Adamaï made a noise somewhere between a wail and a moan; Timov flinched back and tried not to look like he was hiding behind Tristepin. Eva stepped into Adamai’s line of sight, catching his eye and speaking in the voice she used to get her three-year-old daughter to behave. “Adamaï, what can you feel? Can you feel what’s happening to Yugo right now?”

“No,” Adamaï growled, then shook his head. “Yes.” He put his hands up to his ears, eyes squinting closed. “It’s not _right_ , it’s all wrong, he’s there but he’s not.” He opened his eyes again and looked up at Evangelyne, pleading. “What if he gets lost? What if he can’t come back?”

“Then we’ll go find him,” Tristepin said before Eva could answer, and as Iopish as the statement was, there was something reassuring in his simple confidence. “We found you, and we found Qilby’s dofus. If we have to go on another quest to get Yugo back, then we’ll do it!”

“Pinpin’s right,” Amalia said. “Whatever it takes, we’ll—”

She broke off as Adamaï suddenly spun to his brother. “Yugo!” he called. “Yugo! Yugo, wake up!”

For a moment it seemed like all of them were holding their breath together – then Yugo stirred, eyes scrunching and then blinking slowly open, and they all breathed a sigh of relief.

“Yugo!” Amalia shouted, and caught him up in a fierce embrace. “You’re all right!”

Yugo mumbled something unintelligible into Amalia’s shoulder and she eased her grip enough that he could look around at the rest of them. He seemed confused, and finally he turned to where Adamaï had slumped against the wall in relief. “Ad?” he said hoarsely. “Amalia, Eva… what happened? Why’re you all looking at me like that?”

“You don’t remember?” Adamaï asked.

Yugo shook his head. “No. We were going to lunch with Amalia, and…” He scrunched up his nose, clearly trying to recall, but finally shook his head again. “I don’t remember anything after that. Just… just a dream, like flying, like I was soaring through space… it was beautiful.”

“You _ran off_ ,” Amalia snapped, and shook him hard enough that Az chirped angrily at her. “You _ran off_ again, Yugo, you left us all behind, you nearly _died_ —!”

Yugo stared at her, the shock on his face enough to startle her into silence. He listened as they explained what had happened, and when they’d finished, he shivered. “I don’t remember any of that,” he admitted. “I’m really sorry I worried all of you…”

Amalia _hmph_ ed, crossing her arms and turning up her nose. Eva couldn’t help a faint smile; she knew her princess too well for that. “Ami,” she said gently. “That sphere seems designed to target Eliatropes. It’s not Yugo’s fault.”

Yugo looked up at Amalia with his best wide puppy-dog eyes, and after a moment Amalia sighed and uncrossed her arms. “I _suppose_ ,” she sniffed, “I can forgive you. This time.”

“Good,” Yugo said, and started to hug her – then stopped, eyes going wide again. “Wait,” he said. “If it targets Eliatropes, then what about Chibi and Jahanna—”

“Chibi’s fine,” Eva interrupted. “And Loki’s with those guys, you know he won’t let them do anything to Jahanna.”

Yugo nodded reluctantly. “Yeah,” he agreed. He looked up at them, his jaw set. “We should go find them,” he said. “We need to know what’s going on.”

Eva hesitated, looking at Amalia for help. “I think Loki wanted to talk to them alone,” she said.

Yugo looked up at her from under the brim of his hat, the grim look that was far too dark for someone so young, but which spoke of all the battles he’d already fought. “If they’re putting my people in danger,” he said, soft but firm, “then I need to know what’s going on.”

“He’s right,” Adamaï said. “You guys don’t have to come, but we’re going to talk to those guys.” He jumped up and over their heads to land on the floor near the doorway. “Come on, bro.”

Yugo squeezed Amalia’s hand, then climbed off the bed, only a little unsteady. Adamaï dropped an arm around his shoulders, a dragon’s protectiveness as much as a brother’s helpfulness, and they walked together out of the room. Adamaï had said the rest of them didn’t have to come, but there really wasn’t any question, and together the Brotherhood went to find the strangers.

*             *             *

_He remembers his brother, all long thin limbs and dark hair and pale skin—_

_Wrong. His brother is stocky and strong, with mahogany skin and long white hair—_

_Wrong. Knives flashing and spinning, a whirlwind of death, green and gold and black shadows on the battlefield—_

_Wrong. Flames and talons and sharp sharp teeth, rich brown scales and blue wakfu eyes—_

_Wakfu blue, no, that’s the Tesseract—_

_That’s the Eliacube, which started it all, which killed them all—_

_Which saved them all, brilliant wings sprouting behind his brother’s shoulders, shot through with holes but still strong, strong as the magic in his brother’s hands—_

_Magic in his brother’s hands, bright and powerful as he patiently explains the spell—_

_As the traitor gleefully explains what he’s done to their people and why, vengeance and rage in his eyes, his voice—_

_As he explains what has happened to their world, their home, and the weight of the knowledge is enough to drive him to laugh madly, brokenly—_

_Laughing wildly as they soar together above the clouds, the storm rumbling below them, thunder booming and lightning flashing—_

_Lightning flashing outside, thunder loud enough to rattle the walls but his brother doesn’t care, all his attention focused on a book—_

_A book in his brother’s hands, (thick taloned) (long delicate) fingers  unwaveringly careful as he turns the page, as he lays it open on a table in a workroom—_

_On a table in a workroom, an alien workroom, lights too bright, too orange and massive figures looming over him—_

_You cannot escape, one of them says, and its voice is cold and metallic and uncaring—_

_Wrong, he can escape, his brother will come for him—_

_Wrong, his brother is gone, far away, where he will never know what happened—_

_Wrong, he’ll know, he always knows, how could he not—_

_Wrong, he’s protecting something more important—_

_Wrong, he’ll come, he has to come, please brother—_

_Brother please—!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering what a snuffle is, it's a creature which can smell kamas (the currency of the World of Twelve). As one merchant puts it, "the richer you are, the more it likes you." Or in other words, it's the bane of Enutrofs everywhere.


	11. Distrust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What's his name?”  
> “Who?”  
> “The kid that bullies you at school. What's his name?”  
> “How'd you know that?”  
> - _Iron Man 3_

“Now they’ve found us again,” Jahanna whispered. She looked up at them, eyes hollow. “Now they’ve come to finish what they started.”

Silence fell over the room at her words, and the dread in her voice sent a chill down Tony’s spine. “So, these Mechasms, they’re another alien army?” he asked carefully.

Jahanna shivered, and Loki reached up to take her hands in his. It was still incredibly weird to see Loki being this gentle, this tender, but it seemed to reassure Jahanna and she said, “Another alien civilization, yes.” She swallowed hard. “Many tens of thousands of years ago, they came to the Eliatrope homeworld. They attacked us; they nearly wiped us out. If Qilby hadn’t been able to finish the Zinit in time, we’d never have escaped.” She shook her head. “We fled here, to this world, and we thought we’d lost them, that they’d given up pursuing us. Then one of them found us again, and…”

She trailed off, silent for a moment, then looked up at the Avengers. “That’s why there’s only three Eliatropes left.”

“Why did they attack?” Steve asked.

“No one knows,” Jahanna said. She shivered again, and Loki twisted where he was crouched at her feet to scowl over his shoulder at the Avengers. Steve took the hint, raising his hands slightly in a gesture of surrender, and the room fell quiet again except for Loki murmuring something to Jahanna.

Tony looked around at the others. Steve was frowning, gaze turned inward as he processed this new information. Bruce met Tony’s eyes with a rueful smile, and Tony could practically hear his thoughts: _Here we go again, huh?_. Barton was looking at Natasha, who in turn was watching Jahanna with her eyes narrowed slightly. Tony knew that expression: Natasha was suspicious of something, but whatever it was, she wasn’t about to say it in front of Jahanna and Loki.

Then Loki stood up, a quick sharp movement that made Tony jump. “We need to confirm this,” Loki said flatly. “The Mechasms are too dangerous a foe to make assumptions.” Behind him, Jahanna was leveraging herself carefully out of the chair. Loki continued, “And if it is the Mechasms, we need to know more about their methods of attack.”

“I don’t disagree,” Steve said, “but there’s not much to go on. We already checked out the throne room where it took Thor—”

Loki gave him a smile that held no humor. “We have our own methods, Captain. Please wait here. I’ll send an Eniripsa to tend your wounds.”

Steve stood up as well, not exactly in their way, but the patio wasn’t that big and Steve wasn’t a ninety-pound weakling any more. “We’ll come with you,” he said. “We—”

“No,” Loki and Jahanna said together, flat and unyielding.

“All due respect,” Steve said, “we need to know what we’re up against, too.” He was doing his earnest good ol’ boy act again, but there was an edge of tension in the way he held himself poised. Challenging Loki was risky, but so was allowing him to shut the Avengers out of any attempt to rescue Thor and stop the kidnappers, Mechasms or otherwise.

Jahanna shook her head. “No. The place we’re going to is an Eliatrope sacred place. Mortals don’t belong there.”

Tony bit back a quip about Loki-the-not-Eliatrope going there – this wasn’t about whether or not they were Eliatropes, it was about whether or not Loki and Jahanna were willing to trust the Avengers, and it was clear that they weren’t. Apparently thinking along the same lines, Steve said, “Look, I know you don’t like us. We aren’t real happy about this, either. But we need to work together if we want to get Thor back.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed. Tony wasn’t sure whether Steve’s appeal to brotherly love was a good idea; Loki still hadn’t given any hint whether he was helping them for Thor’s sake, or because of the threat the sphere posed to his wife. And there was no way Loki would miss the hypocrisy in Steve’s words, the demand that Loki and Jahanna trust the Avengers even when the Avengers would not trust them in return, or at least no more than they had already just by coming here.

Then, to Tony’s surprise, Loki said, “Fine. Stark may come. But only if he leaves behind his armor and weapons.”

Tony blinked, too startled to say anything for a second. Loki wanted _him_ to come along? Loki hadn’t even glanced away from Steve, hadn’t given any sign of what the hell he was thinking—

“No,” Steve said sharply. “No way—”

Loki smiled, cold and brittle. “Those are our terms, Captain. Take them or do not, it’s your choice.”

Except maybe Loki was thinking about exactly the same thing Tony had been, about trust and hypocrisy and how the hell were they going to rescue Thor if they couldn’t work together, and Steve was opening his mouth again to retort and Tony said, “I’ll do it.”

Everyone stopped and looked at Tony. He swallowed, but said it again: “I’ll do it.” He even managed to make it sound casual, like they were going out for a cup of coffee or something.

“Tony,” Bruce started, but Steve cut him off: “You don’t have to do this—”

“Sure I do,” Tony said, and waved a hand flippantly. “Didn’t you just say we need this information?” He grinned at Steve, trying to hide the nervous flip-flops his stomach was doing. “Or do you think I can’t report it accurately? I mean, I’m no super-soldier who can remember a full war map from glancing at it for two seconds—Yes, my dad _did_ tell me that story, don’t look at—”

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve snapped, then hesitated. He couldn’t very well call Tony out on deliberately misunderstanding why Steve didn’t want him to go, not without flat-out admitting that Steve expected Loki to do something malicious while he had Tony alone and unarmed. Which would sort of defeat the whole purpose of this ridiculous little trust exercise, and Tony knew that Steve knew it.

“It’ll be fine,” Tony said, before Steve could continue. “Relax, I’ve got this, what—”

“If you say ‘what could go wrong’,” Bruce interrupted, “I’ll—” He stopped, clearly trying to think of something bad enough. “—I won’t tell you what I realized about Jane’s wormhole device last night.”

“Dirty pool,” Tony said. “Scientific progress shouldn’t be held hostage to me not saying something stupid.” He grinned at Bruce, who shook his head but couldn’t quite hide a smile.

Steve sighed. “Fine,” he said.

Loki inclined his head, all cold regal politeness. “Someone will be by to attend you shortly,” he said, and strode forward. For a bad second it looked like Steve wasn’t going to move out of the way, still bristling with righteous protectiveness, but at the last second he stepped aside, and Loki swept past. A blue swirl and Jahanna portaled from one end of the room to the other, close on Loki’s heels. Tony followed them, leaving his suit in its backpack form beside his chair and flashing Steve an apologetic smile as he passed.

Outside on the walkway, Loki slowed down enough to take Jahanna’s arm. She didn’t look happy, but she hadn’t objected to Loki’s conditional allowance of Tony’s presence, and now she walked beside him with her head high and the poise of her hat’s cat ears giving off a distinct air of hauteur. Neither she nor Loki looked back at Tony as they walked, and he tried not to feel like a dog chasing after its masters. Which was really annoying, and how the hell could Loki be so much better than Thor at the whole regal thing, Thor could sometimes pull off divine righteousness what with the lightning and the hammer and the godly physique, but Loki was projecting “unquestionable monarch” the way Steve projected “good ol’ boy” and Natasha projected “danger, back away slowly”.

They’d gone only a few hundred feet along the walkways when they rounded an immense tree trunk to find the kids from the Bifrost grove – Yugo and the dragon Adamaï, Princess Amalia, Evangelyne, the knight, and the bounty hunter –  walking toward them. Loki and Jahanna both stopped, which, since the walkway wasn’t wide enough for three, left Tony stuck craning around them to see, and _god_ did he feel like a rube, he was Tony Stark, dammit, he shouldn’t have to put up with this shit—

“Loki, Jahanna,” Yugo said. “What’s going on?” He sounded much more in control of himself than he had back in the Bifrost grove, the tone of his question not one of confusion, but more like Nick Fury asking for a sitrep. Tony started to wonder if there was some kind of royalty vitamins in the water.

“We’re going to Emrub,” Jahanna answered. Yugo’s eyes widened, and Adamaï stopped growling at Tony to give Jahanna a startled look. She added, “It’s… it might be really bad. You two should probably come, too.”

“So are you going to tell us what’s going on?” Princess Amalia demanded. She put her hands on her hips. “Or is this some sort of secret Eliatrope thing?”

“Once we know for sure,” Loki said, “we’ll tell you. But—”

“Oh, no,” Amalia said, and transferred her glare to Yugo, who rubbed the back of his neck uneasily. “None of that! ‘It might be really bad, but sorry, we’re not going to tell you’? Nope!” She folded her arms, and Tony couldn’t help but be amused at the way all of the others – even Loki – shrank back from her rising voice. “You had _better_ tell us what’s going on, right now, or by Sadida I will—”

A godawful shriek from somewhere overhead interrupted her, and two huge birds of prey dove down to land on the walkway between Loki and Amalia. Even as they landed there were twin puffs of smoke, and then instead of birds it was two men standing there. Or at least, men-shaped beings. One of them Tony recognized as Jahanna’s dragon brother in human form, stocky and broad-shouldered, with blood-red skin, long black hair, and black horns curving back along his skull. The other had teal skin marked with ugly reddish scars, long ears that hung down to either side of his head like a hound’s, and two short pale horns jutting from the top of his bald head. When he turned to nod to Yugo, Tony could see sharp bone spikes running in a line down his back and across his shoulder blades.

Jahanna’s brother made to reach for her, but she waved him back with a gentle smile. “I’m fine, Tikal,” she said. “Where’s Grougaloragran?”

“With his brother,” Tikal answered in a voice like grinding stone.

Behind him, the other guy – dragon? – was saying to Amalia, “Phaeris apologizes for interrupting you, but Tikalukatal’s news is dire.”

“So everyone says,” Amalia sniped, “but no one will say _why_.”

There was a hilarious little round of looks traded among the dragons, the Eliatropes, and Loki; it seemed to fall to Yugo to turn to Amalia and say, “Please, Amalia, just… be patient? We’ll tell you as soon as we get back.” Then he looked up at her with weapons-grade puppy-dog eyes. “You wanted to talk to those guys from Loki’s world anyway, you can do that until we get back.”

Tony was still behind Loki so he couldn’t see his reaction, but from the way he twitched Loki had _not_ been expecting Yugo to say that. And, okay, yeah, Tony had to give the kid credit, that was some first-class manipulation right there, because it meant that Yugo’s friends would have a chance to talk to the Avengers without Loki around, and while Tony had no idea what Loki’s standing here was beyond that he didn’t show deference to the princess (but then again, neither did any of the princess’s other friends), he wasn’t surprised that the natives wanted a chance to get more information on him.

Amalia held out for a couple of seconds longer, nose in the air, before finally sighing. “Fine. Go. But I want to know _everything_ the _moment_ you come back.”

“Right!” Yugo said, and grinned at her, then turned to Loki and Jahanna. “Come on, let’s go.”

Loki shook his head in exasperation, but Tony could see the curve of a smile on his mouth. To Amalia Loki said, “If you would summon Timov. I promised the mortals their injuries would be tended.”

“Yes, yes,” Amalia said. “Ruel, would you go get him, please? He can’t have gone far.”

“Am I one of your servants now?” Ruel grumbled, but he turned back up the path, disappearing quickly around the curve of the tree.

Loki nodded a thank-you to Amalia. She _hmph_ ed and turned up her nose, but Loki didn’t seem bothered by it. He motioned for Yugo and Adamaï to lead the way, along a different branch of the walkway than the one Ruel had taken. It took a bit of shuffling to get everyone past each other on the narrow walkway – Jahanna just portaled her way through but the rest of them had to crowd around each other, and while the natives were clearly used to the less-than-OSHA-compliant walkways, Tony was still leery about getting too close to the edge. He ended up having to run a couple of steps to catch up to Loki’s group, which now included Yugo and all three dragons, and he was really starting to wonder if Loki wasn’t doing that on purpose, because Tony Stark having to scramble to keep up was just _not a thing that should be happening_.

As he got closer, though, he heard Jahanna saying to Loki, her voice quiet but amused, “Don’t give me that look. You’re the one who taught him how to think like that.”

...And okay, maybe Tony could handle being left behind, because it meant they weren’t paying attention to him and he wanted to know what Loki would say when he’d forgotten Tony was there.

What Loki said was, “I didn’t teach him the eyes. That was you.” His voice was light, teasing; more like the happy guy he’d been in the instant before he’d spotted the Avengers.

Jahanna laughed and bumped her shoulder against Loki’s. “Mm- _hmm_. It wasn’t _my_ eyes the Eniripsa Mother described as ‘weapons of mass persuasion’.”

“Lies,” Loki retorted. “I would never—” He cut off abruptly, shoulders tensing, and Tony saw the flicker of green as his eyes darted to where Tony was walking just within earshot behind them. Oops.

Jahanna glanced up at Loki, but didn’t say anything, and they continued in silence. Tony had to fight to keep from staring at Loki’s back, at the way he’d gone all ramrod-straight, like Steve when he was doing the Obedient Soldier act but really just wanted to punch something. And he kept thinking of the way Loki had looked earlier with the kid on his shoulders, the way he’d looked a second ago talking to Jahanna: relaxed, open, at ease.

Sane.

Tony sighed. This whole thing came down to trust. They needed Loki and Jahanna to rescue Thor, and Loki and Jahanna needed the Avengers (maybe; Loki had the sphere now but he’d also allowed Tony to come along on this trip) to defend against the Mechasms. But that wouldn’t work if Loki was constantly clamming up around the Avengers, if he refused to talk to them except when absolutely necessary. Or, for that matter, if the Avengers kept treating him like a nuclear bomb about to go off.

Okay, then.

“Hey, Loki,” Tony called. “Can I ask you something?”

Loki glanced back at him. “You can ask,” he said, in a tone that suggested, _but I might not answer_.

“Accents,” Tony said, and Loki frowned in confusion; he’d clearly been expecting something else. Good. “So,” Tony continued, “you and Thor and everyone on Asgard have British accents, right? And everyone here—” he waved a hand at the treetop city around them “—has French accents. And Jahanna and her brother have… I don’t even know what, some weird accent. I asked Thor about the British thing but he just gave me some mumbo-jumbo about an ‘all-tongue’.”

Loki smirked. “I’m surprised he even remembered that much from our lessons.”

“So what gives?” Tony pressed. “I mean, you’re supposed to be Norse gods, so the British thing never made sense, and now we’ve got French, which makes even less sense since they’re not even in the same, I don’t know, neighborhood of the universe, do universes even have neighborhoods—”

“It’s simple enough,” Loki interrupted, waving a hand to cut him off. “You may have heard of— No, of course you wouldn’t have, you’re mortal. In the time before time,” he said over Tony’s “Hey!”, “the Krosmos was inhabited by the dragons and the titans. They shared a language, the one we now know as the all-tongue, or allspeak.” He fell back to walk beside Tony as he spoke, and it was startling to watch the way he came alive: his hands gesturing broadly, the lines of his body relaxing, the grim look in his eyes replaced by an excited light.

“Over time, however,” he continued, “the dragons and the titans parted ways. The dragons to one corner of the Krosmos to found the Eliatropes’ homeworld and eventually this world, the titans to another, where they created what would later become the Nine Realms. And in the eons since then, the worlds to which they gave birth each took the all-tongue and made it their own.”

“So the accents are more like, what, dialects?” Tony asked.

“Exactly,” Loki said. “As each group sees the world differently, so too do they speak it differently.”

“The concepts thing,” Tony said. “Thor said something about it being a language of concepts, which I don’t really get because all words are concepts—”

“Only the words of your people,” Loki corrected. “The humans of Earth live lives which are too short for the all-tongue, and so you developed your own languages, your own way of speaking, which is faster but far less nuanced and flexible.”

“You’re going to have to explain that one,” Tony said, “but before that, what about Jahanna? Where’s her dialect from, if not the Eliatropes?”

Loki nodded like a teacher whose student had just asked a smart question. “Jahanna and Tikalukatal learned speech from the dragon Shinonome, who herself learned speech at the dawn of Eliatrope history, and so they sound archaic to our ears. ...Well, to my ears.” He smirked again, not the malicious expression Tony was used to but a bright, teasing smile, and Tony couldn’t help but smile back. “As for—”

Then Loki stopped, and Tony could _see_ him closing himself off, the light dying from his eyes, his hands stilling, his expression going dark. “As for why you hear our dialects as those specific accents,” he said, his voice flat and cold, “I couldn’t say. Perhaps it’s a fault of your mortal brain.” He sped up, pulling ahead of Tony to rejoin Jahanna and Tikal.

It took Tony a second to remember to walk again, to get over the shock of seeing Loki shutting down like that. Shutting _up_ like that. Because he knew that expression, that body language. Had seen Bruce do exactly the same thing sometimes, when he thought he was only being tolerated because of the Hulk. Had seen the kid Harley do it, a few years ago during the Mandarin incident. Had seen others do it, skinny guys in bad suits at conferences dominated by the big names in chemistry or physics, skinnier guys in bad corduroys and bottle glasses in school, surrounded by the jocks and the cool kids, and Tony knew full well that the only reason he himself had never had to learn it was because money trumped everything else.

Yet to see _Loki_ of all people doing it, Loki who had murdered Phil Coulson in cold blood, Loki who had summoned an alien army to New York, Loki who had used the Avengers like cheap tools in his plan to stop Thanos – except wasn’t the whole plan, everything Loki had done three years ago, all of it because he thought his family didn’t care about him, and Tony’s brain skipped and scratched as things began to click into place.

Tony had always known that Thor was the jockiest of jocks, that Asgard’s was a warrior culture which prized manliness and physical prowess over everything else. Thor himself tended to be pretty easygoing about it, teasing Tony and Bruce sometimes for their devotion to academic pursuits but also quick to reassure that he meant no offense, and Tony had figured ( _stupid, stupid, stupid, never rely on a data set of one_ ) that it meant that even if masculinity was prized, being a scholar was still no big deal. But he remembered the kid Ragnvaldr’s nervousness when he’d admitted to studying magic, the green ( _Loki-green_ ) band he’d worn on his arm like some kind of symbol, how defensive he’d been when he said _Loki son of Laufey saved Asgard with magic, it cannot be so terrible a thing._

In a society which thought magic was terrible even when they’d been saved by it, Loki was a mage. In a warrior culture, which held strength and battle prowess and honor above all else, Loki was slim, almost feminine in his appearance, and a master of lies and tricks and manipulation. He won fights with deceit, ran away when he knew he was outmatched rather than fighting to the last breath. Used his mind instead of his brawn.

Loki had been a geek in a world of jocks, and suddenly a _lot_ of his attitude made more sense.

Tony took a deep breath. It wasn’t a big revelation, really – Earth was full of geeks and jocks jostling for position, for dominance and prestige and power. It didn’t have to be a big deal, it didn’t have to mean anything – except that it did, it meant everything, because it wasn’t just about Loki being willing to trust the people who’d beaten him into the ground three years ago (even if it had all been part of his plan), it was about Loki being willing to trust people who, in his eyes, were just like the people who’d forced him to learn to shut down like that. And Tony might know that Steve was the opposite of a jock, had been the skinny brainy one right up until the serum; that Bruce was all brain and only the Hulk was brawn; that Natasha and Clint couldn’t care less about the jock/geek divide; but none of it mattered because Loki looked at them and saw people who solved problems with their fists and their weapons, people like the brother he’d been convinced didn’t give a single flying fuck about him, and even if Loki had made up with his brother he’d pretty clearly not made up with the rest of it.

...Yeah. This was going to be a lot harder than Tony had thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's late! Long chapter is long...


	12. Oath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Is everything a joke to you?"  
> "Funny things are."  
> - _The Avengers_

Tony didn’t try to initiate conversation again as he followed Loki, Jahanna, Yugo, and the dragons along a path through the trees that led increasingly up and away from the city proper. He could hear Jahanna explaining the situation to Yugo and Adamaï as they walked, although as the stairs got steeper she had to stop, giving up on the steps and just portaling from one level to another. It didn’t take long for Tony to wish he could do the same, but no one else was complaining ( _stupid aliens and their stupid alien endurance_ ), so he gritted his teeth and tried not to fall too far behind.

Finally they reached a wide balcony set against the side of a massive tree with a breathtaking view of the forest beyond, treetops swaying below like a lush green ocean. The floor of the balcony was carved and set with a circle some ten feet across, scribed with gold and silver and other precious metals, with runes scrawled in chalk around the edges. Worktables lined the edges of the balcony, covered with potted plants and miscellaneous equipment that Tony didn’t recognize. A large pair of double doors led into the trunk of the tree; Loki made a beeline for them while Yugo, Jahanna, and the dragons lingered outside. Tony, trailing behind and trying not to look too out of breath, stopped at the top of the stairs and leaned on the railing, admiring the view and squelching the urge to ask questions.

“Hey,” a voice said beside him.

Tony jumped and nearly fell down the stairs. When he managed to steady himself, he glared at Yugo, who’d popped up from a portal next to him. “Jesus,” he muttered. “Warn a guy next time.”

“Sorry,” Yugo said, and smiled sheepishly. “Everyone here’s kind of used to it.”

“I guess,” Tony said. He flashed a smile to show no harm done and went back to leaning on the railing.

“Jahanna says you’re one of the people from Loki’s world, who brought the thing that attacked me,” Yugo said.

“You don’t remember?” Tony asked. Across the balcony, Adamaï was watching him with his eyes narrowed. Tony’s shoulder blades itched.

“No,” Yugo said. “Amalia told me what happened, but I don’t remember any of it.” He leaned on the railing beside Tony, arms draping over the edge.

“Yeah, look, sorry about that,” Tony said. “We didn’t know – I didn’t know – the sphere was going to do that. Whatever that was.”

“It’s all right. I’m fine. Adamaï’s going to be mad for a while, but…” Yugo shrugged. “Dragons are really protective.”

Tony remembered the terror of seeing Tikalukatal take his dragon form for the first time, three years ago in New Mexico after Agent Barton had shot Jahanna. Remembered _knowing_ , deep in the primal parts of his brain, that he was going to die. Adamaï’s transformation in the grove hadn’t been quite as bad, but Tony wasn’t sure if that was because he’d been expecting it that time, or if Adamaï just wasn’t as powerful as Tikalukatal yet. “Yeah,” he said.

Yugo glanced up at him from under the brim of his bright blue hat. It had probably been a cute gesture when he was younger; now there was a level of disingenuous cunning to it that reminded Tony of Steve. “Loki doesn’t like you very much,” Yugo said.

Tony couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s an understatement,” he said.

“Why not?”

“It’s… complicated,” Tony said, and winced, because useless answer or _useless answer?_ “Uh, I sort of shot him a couple of times, but he threw me off a building, and…” Ugh, how was he supposed to explain the clusterfuck that had been the New York attack and the Infinity War, Loki’s master plan, the Avengers’ place in it? He shook his head. “Just… really complicated.”

“Okay,” Yugo said. His voice was neutral and Tony wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad sign. “So why’s he bringing you to Emrub with us? It’s… No one else is supposed to go there.”

Well, at least Loki hadn’t just been saying that to screw with the Avengers. Tony shrugged. “I think because we’re trying to help,” he said. “Where are we, anyway? This looks like someone’s workroom, not a holy space.”

“It’s Loki’s workroom,” Yugo said. “He keeps the Eliacube up here.”

“And, what, we need the Eliacube for something?”

“To get to Emrub,” Yugo explained. “There’s not a Zaap between there and here, so we need the Eliacube to open the portal.”

Tony frowned. He remembered Princess Amalia referring to the Bifrost as a Zaap back in the grove, but that meant… “Wait, so Emrub’s another world?”

Yugo hesitated. “Sort of,” he said. “It’s…”

“It is only accessible with the aid of the Eliacube,” Loki said from behind them, “and that is all you need to know.” Tony turned to see him emerge from the double doors, the Tesseract – the Eliacube – hovering over his palm (and god _damn_ but Tony wanted to know how he was doing that floaty thing with all the magic relics). Loki walked over to where Tony and Yugo stood at the railing, and held the cube out to Yugo. “Practice,” he said lightly.

Yugo groaned, the universal sound of a teenager confronted with schoolwork, and took the cube. Before he could do anything with it, though, Loki turned to Tony. “Swear,” he said. “Swear on your life and your knowledge that you will communicate nothing of what you experience in Emrub, save what is necessary and relevant to find and punish those who took my brother, to anything or anyone, save those of us who have already been there.”

Tony turned it over in his head. It was a nice bit of legalese, simple but comprehensive, and he couldn’t see anything that Steve could get mad about (or at least, that Steve couldn’t _reasonably_ get mad about). “Who’s already been there?” he asked. “Just so I know in advance.”

Loki gestured at the others on the balcony. He was doing that little smug smile again, and Tony couldn’t tell if it was because that was his default expression or because Tony had missed something in the bargain that would get him into trouble. He went over the words again in his head, but still couldn’t see anything problematic. He’d still be able to talk to the other Avengers about anything they needed to know to rescue Thor, which was the important thing. If he was honest, the fact that Loki was asking him to make the vow in the first place was oddly reassuring – if Loki didn’t expect Tony to return from the trip alive and able to discuss the information they’d gone there to get, he wouldn’t be making him swear not to. (And if Loki tried to do anything short of actually killing Tony, well, as far as Tony was concerned that information would be, quote, relevant to finding whoever took Thor, unquote, because the Avengers being able to work with Loki was a big part of that whole plan.)

“All right,” Tony said, keeping his voice level. “I swear.”

Loki made an impatient gesture. “The rest of it…?”

“Uh,” Tony said. “I swear on my, what was it, on my life and my knowledge that I will communicate nothing of what I experience in Emrub, except what’s necessary and relevant to rescue Thor, to anything or anyone, except anyone who’s already been there.” He could feel a tension in his chest as he spoke, where the arc reactor had been, something like an electric charge running up and down his body, and somewhere far in the distance he thought he heard the chime of a massive clock bell.

Fucking _magic_.

Loki watched him for a moment in silence, the smirk fading into something dark and unreadable, then turned abruptly on his heel and strode over to where Jahanna and the dragons waited in the center of the balcony. Tony frowned at his back. He had the impression that Loki was angry about something – more than he had been, at least – but fuck if Tony could figure out what he was thinking. His chest still itched, power crawling under his skin, and he rubbed at the spot where the arc reactor used to be. “That was some kind of actual, for-real magic oath, wasn’t it?” he asked Yugo. “Like, if I break it I drop dead or something?”

“Yep,” Yugo said with alarming cheerfulness. “Or lose all your knowledge, that was in there too. But don’t worry, you’d have to try really hard to break it, so as long as you follow the oath you’ll be fine.” He grinned, flashing tiny fangs, and bounded across the balcony after Loki.

Tony shook his head and followed more slowly. “You’re all psychotic,” he informed the group at large. “Death oaths? Like seriously, what’s in this place that’s so important?”

He caught the faint curve of Loki’s mouth – damn the bastard, he thought this was _funny_ – but then the teal dragon said, “Emrub is not to be treated lightly or carelessly. Loki allowed you to come, but if you cannot show respect, Phaeris will see to it that you are left behind.”

Whoops. Tony held up both hands. “Sorry, sorry. I’m just – this is weird for me, okay? Like a few years ago dragons and magic were just myths and now...” He waved an arm vaguely.

“It’s best not to take him seriously,” Loki added to Phaeris, still smirking. “He is weakest among his companions, so he plays at flyting to soothe his ego.”

“Hey!” Tony protested. “I am not—and what’s flyting?”

Loki just smiled more widely. “Something at which you are not very good. Yugo, if you will. We’re wasting time.”

Tony sputtered, but with a monumental effort of will, managed to keep his mouth shut. Loki might have insulted him, but he’d also headed off Phaeris from leaving Tony behind, so that had to count for something. He couldn’t quite keep himself from crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Loki, though.

Loki ignored him, his attention on Yugo as the kid raised the Tesseract – the Eliacube – in front of him. It stayed hovering there when Yugo, brow furrowed in concentration, dropped his hands away, and suddenly a massive portal appeared across one end of the balcony. It was nearly black around the edges, with complicated spiraling runes across the center that looked eerily like the Tesseract. Jahanna and the dragons entered it without hesitation, and Yugo followed behind them, the cube still hovering at his shoulder. Loki paused just before stepping through and turned back to flash another malicious smile at Tony. “Lost your nerve, mortal?” he teased.

“Why, need someone to hold your hand?” Tony shot back, and was gratified to see Loki’s eyebrows go up slightly.  Achievement unlocked: successful comeback against the God of Lies and Mischief. He smirked at Loki, and after a moment Loki smirked back – but this time, there was just a little bit of respect in his eyes.

Tony turned to the portal then. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to going through yet another of the damn things, but needs must and all, and he wasn’t about to give up whatever little advantage he might have just gained with Loki by chickening out now. So he swallowed, and with Loki right behind him, made himself step through the portal to Emrub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, a week and a half late, here's the update! Sorry about that. 
> 
> **Important news!**
> 
> Those of you who've stuck with me since last year (and omg wow thank you!) can probably guess what's coming. It's finals season, and the holiday season, and travel season, and, well, if I'm doing this badly at getting updates out on time already, I'm not going to do any better for the rest of the month. So, just like last year, I'm taking a holiday break. 
> 
> This means **I won't be posting any more updates until Tuesday, Jaunuary 7th, 2014**. 
> 
> Have a wonderful December, and I will see you all again after the new year! :)


	13. Emrub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Encore toi?! Rends-moi l’Eliacube. Rends-le, il m’appartient!"_  
>  -Wakfu S2E26, “Le Peuple Eliatrope”

Again with the nausea as he stepped through the portal, and Tony squeezed his eyes shut, pausing to put his hands on his knees and swallow again. Somewhat disturbingly, he was apparently used to it enough by now that it only took a few seconds, and a few deep breaths, for his stomach to settle and the ringing in his ears to fade. He opened his eyes, and that was when the silence hit him. The silence and the emptiness – there was absolutely nothing around him, no ground visible beneath his feet, nothing to reflect sound waves and Tony jerked his head up, looking around wildly, and there were the Eliatropes and the dragons and Loki next to him but _nothing else_ , the silence was impossible and there was no ground, what was he standing on, and even as he thought it he felt himself begin to fall—

Pain in his arm and shoulder and he looked up to see that Loki had grabbed him by the upper arm, holding him up with his feet dangling like a parent would pick up a kid who’d just fallen into the mud. Loki’s eyes glittered with amusement, the corner of his mouth quirking, and Tony glared at him.

“Don’t think too much about it,” Loki said lightly, as if it was that easy.

Tony glared some more, but closed his eyes, took another deep breath, and made himself stretch his toes down. There was ground down there, he’d been standing just fine a few seconds ago, and after a moment his feet found… something solid. _Don’t think about it, don’t think about it_ , he chanted silently. Fucking _magic_.

Loki let go of him and Tony took a second to regain his balance and roll his shoulder, sore from being yanked on. When he was stable, he opened his eyes again and looked around ( _don’t think about it_ ). Yugo was already moving forward, Tesseract following at his shoulder, and another giant rune-filled portal opened in the middle of the nothingness. Tony followed the others through it, walking maybe a little closer to Loki than he really should have, but hey if the guy was willing to keep Tony from plunging down into the ( _don’t think about it_ ), then Tony was going to stay in grabbing reach.

The second portal went about the same as the first, but Tony was mostly just happy that the white emptiness wasn’t their destination. Sound rushed in around him on the other side even as he bent over his knees again: footsteps in grass, the soft but distinct sound of Eliatrope portals, voices calling out. _Children’s_ voices, and when he could lift his head, the first thing Tony saw was a swarm of kids, all wearing cat-eared Eliatrope hats, rushing up to them. A whole group gathered around Jahanna, reaching out to touch her pregnant stomach in awe; others ran up to tackle Yugo and Loki in gleeful embraces. Yugo hugged them back, while a smiling Loki swung a couple of the smaller kids into the air, eliciting delighted shrieks.

Tony frowned. He remembered Jahanna saying that there were only three Eliatropes left after the Mechasms’ last attack, yet here were dozens more – maybe hundreds. No adults though; the kids were all preteens and younger, down to a few babies carried by the older children. But then he noticed the way some of the kids were hanging back, hiding behind each other or the dragons or Jahanna and peeking out with wide wary eyes at Tony, suspicion and fear in the way they hunched, the way they drew back when Tony looked at them. And suddenly something clicked in Tony’s brain ( _he is weakest among his companions_ ), and it didn’t matter that he knew the other Avengers _would_ never hurt a child: Loki had chosen Tony to come to Emrub because he didn’t think Tony _could_. Only three Eliatropes left that they wanted the universe to know about, but a whole horde of defenseless kids hidden away at some holy site. No wonder Loki and Jahanna and Phaeris were all so protective of Emrub. And, okay, yeah, on the one hand it stung because maybe Tony _was_ just a mortal without the suit, just a human and therefore lesser, weaker in an Asgardian’s eyes, but so were Barton and Natasha and technically even Steve, and Tony’d been working on being less completely defenseless without the suit. But on the other hand, well, Tony was all too aware of his own reputation as an irresponsible playboy. The fact that Loki had chosen him for this – had trusted him with this – made Tony feel oddly proud.

He stood still, trying to appear nonthreatening to the kids, and looked around at Emrub. The sky was rich twilight-dark and full of weird giant floating objects, like some kind of bizarre abstract video game world. The ground under Tony’s feet was covered with thick green grass heavily mixed with small, bright yellow flowers, and the horizon was weirdly close. There didn’t appear to be a sun or any light source other than a gentle glow that seemed to come from all the floating planetoids, including the one on which they stood. There was the occasional flash of an Eliatrope portal in the distance, marking the arrival of yet another child, though Tony couldn’t see any buildings or signs of habitation.

Then a creaky voice said from somewhere above and behind Tony, “And who is this?”

Tony spun around. Hovering in the air was a… it took a second for Tony to realize the creature was a dragon. It was sitting upright on a huge red pillow, hind feet pressed together and foreclaws resting on its knees like some sort of cartoon fakir. It – he? – was so ancient that his scales had faded to greyish-white except for a few patches of rich brown, and the body beneath the scales had gone flabby and misshapen. A fringe of white beard puffed out around his heavy jaw, and his glowing blue eyes were fixed on Tony.

Tony didn’t even realize he was backing up until he nearly tripped over Loki, who’d appeared at his elbow like a ghost, with one Eliatrope kid sitting on his shoulders and another balanced on his hip. Loki inclined his head to the ancient dragon, careful of the kids he was holding, and said, “Baltazar, this is Tony Stark of Midgard.”

“Tony Stark,” Baltazar repeated, and Tony managed to wiggle his fingers in a wave. Baltazar wasn’t terrifying in the same way Tikal or Adamaï were, but there was a gravity to him, a sense of impossible age, that sent chills down Tony’s spine anyway. Thankfully, he looked away after a moment, surveying the others. “Quite the delegation you’ve brought,” Baltazar said.

“You’ve been watching?” Jahanna asked. She moved forward to stand next to Loki, her dragon brother at her shoulder, the others coming up behind them.

“Enough to know what you seek,” Baltazar answered, and motioned with one clawed forefoot at a giant donut-shaped rock floating in the air nearby.

Loki put down the kids he was holding and gently shooed them away. Yugo and Jahanna were already portaling up to the donut, while Adamaï and Phaeris simply jumped. An arm hooked around Tony’s chest and he had half a second to brace himself before Tikal jumped as well, carrying Tony as though he weighed nothing at all and dropping him lightly in the middle of the donut. Loki swung up beside them a moment later, his expression once again grim and dark. He looked over at Tony. “What time did the attack occur on the throne room?”

Tony blinked. “Uh…” He’d finished his board meeting at eight AM (and it felt like forever ago but really it had only been a few hours, hadn’t it?), and Fandral had arrived maybe an hour later. “Sometime between eight and nine AM. Earth time,” he said.

Loki’s eyes unfocused for a couple of seconds as he did whatever time conversion was required to make that Asgardian time, then he turned to the middle of the donut and waved a hand over the air like he was swiping across a glass display. And like a display, the air shimmered and then suddenly Tony was looking at a bird’s-eye view of the Asgardian throne room. Odin sat on the throne with Frigga standing beside him, and Thor and his friends stood on the steps before them. Thor was saying something about winning a pretty jewel for Frigga, smiling wide and confident, and Tony had an instant to marvel at just how different Thor looked when he was being the carefree prince of Asgard instead of the steadfast defender of Earth.

Then a blast of light flared through the throne room, Odin cried out, and a metal monster appeared at the top of the steps leading into the baldachin. Tony’d been wrong about its size: it was closer to forty feet tall, with a disproportionately huge torso and too-long, barrel-like arms that ended in grabbing pincers surrounding a glowing core. Its skin was much like the surface of the mystery sphere: dark metallic grey, shot through with sharp angular veins of pulsing orange. Its head was small and squat, with a hinged metal jaw that didn’t move even as it demanded, _Where is the Eliacube?_

Its glowing orange eyes surveyed the stunned Asgardians with cold indifference, an expression that didn’t change as the warriors overcame their shock and attacked; didn’t change as it swatted aside Thor, blasted Fandral and Volstagg, grabbed the Lady Sif and flung her like a doll over the wall of the baldachin. When Frigga fired a bolt from Odin’s scepter which hit it squarely in the face, it didn’t so much as flinch.

Tony looked away when it fired back at the queen. Loki didn’t, but his jaw tightened and his fists clenched at his sides.

Once more the creature demanded the Eliacube; this time Thor answered, and Tony looked up in time to see him pushing himself to his feet, battered and limping but unwavering before the creature. “I can tell you—” he began, but like lightning the creature’s arm flashed out, pincer fingers wrapping around Thor’s chest, and another flash of light and they were both gone.

Loki waved a hand over the view, erasing it. His jaw was set and his expression was the awful one Tony remembered from the darkest days of the Infinity War. Jahanna and the adult dragons were equally grim, while Yugo and Adamaï were staring wide-eyed at where the image had been.

“Phaeris—” Jahanna began.

“Yes,” Phaeris said softly. “It was a Mechasm.”

Jahanna shuddered and her brother put an arm around her shoulders. Loki was still staring at nothing; Yugo watched him uneasily. Tony sighed. “Okay, all right,” he said. “We’ve confirmed that it’s a Mechasm. What I want to know is, why did it only show up now, and why on Asgard? The Tesseract’s been in active use on Earth for over eighty years. It doesn’t make sense that these guys would come looking for it now, and on Asgard. What gives?” He reached out and prodded Loki on the shoulder – possibly a dangerous move, given Loki’s dark expression, but Loki just twitched and shot Tony a look of startled offense.

Still, it seemed to jolt him out of his thoughts, and he rubbed his chin. “A valid question,” he admitted. “It does seem odd that—” He stopped abruptly, frown deepening, then said, “Because it _wasn’t_ in active use on Earth.”

“Uh,” Tony said. “I have a guy in a spangly suit and a super-secret spy organization that can tell you otherwise—”

Loki pivoted so abruptly to point at him that Adamaï nearly fell off the donut getting out of his way. “ _That_ Eliacube was in use, yes. But there is another cube, one whose only appearance in the Nine Realms was three years ago in the throne room of the palace of Asgard.”

Tony stared at him. A second Tesseract—? There was no way – except Tony remembered suddenly the debriefing after the Infinity War, Steve mentioning that it didn’t add up, Loki and Jahanna had each been seen with the Tesseract in different places at the same time. They’d dismissed it as yet another of Loki’s illusions, but if there really was a second Tesseract…

Loki was already moving, jumping down from the donut to the planetoid below, Jahanna and Tikal hot on his heels, the others close behind. Tony was left to slide awkwardly down the side of the donut and drop the fifteen or so feet to the ground. He could hear Loki calling to Baltazar, and by the time he caught up to them the ancient dragon was holding a second Tesseract floating between his clawed forefeet.

It was more active than the one Tony was familiar with, spinning restlessly, clicking and humming to itself, its sides expanding and contracting almost as if it was breathing. The other Tesseract was still hovering at Yugo’s shoulder, but even as Tony watched, it seemed to shrink down behind Yugo, away from the light of the new one. Jahanna noticed and called it to her, changing its shape to a butterfly and letting it perch on one of her cat ears.

“There is something you should know about this Eliacube,” Baltazar was saying. His voice was grim. “Though you now call it Yugo’s, it did not originally belong to him.” Loki and Jahanna exchanged an uneasy glance; Yugo’s brow furrowed. Baltazar continued, “It was made for Qilby, before the Zinit was built, before the Mechasms attacked.”

It was the second time the name _Qilby_ had come up – no, Tony realized suddenly, the third, because he remembered that moment in the throne room three years ago when Jahanna had broken free of Thanos’s control, declaring herself the scion of Qilby the Traitor. And from the dark expression on all their faces, it was not a good name. “Who’s Qilby?” he asked.

Yugo and Adamaï looked at each other. “Er…” Yugo said. Phaeris just turned away, while Loki scowled.

It was Jahanna who said softly, “Qilby was the man who started the war with the Mechasms and nearly wiped out his own people.” She met Tony’s eyes. “Because he was _bored_.” There were razors in her voice, sharp fury that was a little too close to the way Loki had sounded three years ago, and Tony held up both hands.

“Okay,” he said carefully. “It was just a question.”

Loki pulled Jahanna to him in a gentle embrace. She shook her head, the Tesseract-butterfly wavering where it was perched on her hat. “Why does everything come back to him?” she whispered. “Can’t we be rid of him?”

“Unfortunately, it seems we cannot yet,” Baltazar said.

“Are we sure it means anything, though?” Tony asked. “I mean, for all we know it’s just that the Mechasms have their trackers set to that Tesseract’s particular energy signature.” He paused. “I’m assuming they have different energy signatures, based on how they’re acting, magitech isn’t exactly my thing.”

“They do,” Loki said. “And you’re most likely correct that it means nothing.”

“But what about Nox?” Yugo asked. “He was using that Eliacube on our world for hundreds of years before you borrowed it. Why didn’t the Mechasms notice it then?”

“Because of Nora,” Phaeris said, and they all turned to look at him. He was staring off into the distance, eyes tired and sad. “Phaeris does not know the details, but he knows that when Orgonax came to the World of Twelve, Nora joined with the goddess Eliatrope and sacrificed her wakfu to drive him away and hide the world from the Mechasms. It is why no other Mechasm has ever found us, and why Nora has not yet been reborn.” Yugo nodded, looking thoughtful.

“We should get back,” Loki said. “Now that we know what enemy we face, it’s time to show them why they should never have resumed their pursuit.”

Jahanna nodded and straightened, expression settling into one of determination. She bowed to Baltazar, and the others followed her lead. “Thank you,” she said.

“Go with care,” Baltazar answered. “And know that should you need our help, you have but to ask.”

She nodded again, then the big rune-swirled portal opened before her and she stepped through, Loki at her side. Yugo and the dragons followed, but when Tony started to move, Baltazar said, “Tony Stark.”

Tony paused, looking up at the ancient dragon where he floated on his cushion. Baltazar’s Tesseract-blue eyes were fixed on him, seeming to stare straight through him, and again Tony had that sense of age, of too much time lived, too many years of knowledge. “Watch over them,” Baltazar said quietly. “You have a good heart.”

Tony wasn’t quite sure what to say to that – even he could tell that a flippant comeback would be wildly inappropriate here – so he just nodded. It seemed to be enough for Baltazar; he sat back, releasing Tony from his gaze, and Tony turned to follow the others through the portal back to the Sadida Kingdom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! Happy new year!


	14. Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Nous ... avoir un compte à régler?”_  
>  _“Evangelyne, je m'excuse pour la destruction de votre arc. Il était impardonnable. Mais je vous prie de me donner une chance.”_  
>  -Wakfu S1E24, “Retrouvailles”

No one had said anything since Tony had left with Loki and Jahanna. Natasha sat back in her chair, watching the others and trying to figure out why Jahanna’s words had pinged her as a lie. She hadn’t said anything out loud yet; if it had been just her and Clint she might have, but she still didn’t trust Banner, and Steve was too worried about Stark to be much help. He was standing at parade rest near the edge of the patio, staring unseeing out at the forest, while Clint was slouched in his seat with his eyes mostly closed, doing the resting-on-alert they’d both learned early on was the only way they’d ever get any rest during long missions. Banner sat hunched in on himself, staring at the ground and occasionally muttering what sounded like mathematical formulae under his breath.

Clint’s head came up an instant before Natasha heard the footsteps on the walkway outside. Steve and Banner both looked toward the door as well, just as the Sadida princess Amalia and her mismatched retinue entered the patio. There was a fifth person as well, hiding behind Ruel: a skinny young man with brown hair, dark eyes, and a pink heart tattooed on his left cheek. He wore loose-legged trousers and a halter-necked shirt embroidered with another heart, and he carried a thin wooden wand tipped with yet another heart. When Amalia waved him forward, he ducked his head shyly.

“This is Timov,” Amalia said. “If any of you are injured, he’ll see to your wounds.”

“Clint,” Natasha said immediately, but at the same time Clint said “Tasha,” and Steve said, “Natasha,” and she glared at them.

“You took four arrows,” Clint said, unfazed. “I’m fine.”

“And I’m not getting healed until you are,” Steve said.

Natasha sighed. In truth, she’d already forgotten the pain of the arrows, the bruises on her shoulder and back and what were probably burns from the heat of the bolts. But now that she’d been reminded of them, the pain came back, tugging at the edges of her concentration. Timov seemed to take her sigh as an assent, and… floated up into the air? Natasha blinked, but sure enough Timov was hovering a few inches off the ground, and as he flew closer she could see a pair of thin, spiky black fairy wings humming between his shoulder blades. The other Avengers were staring at him, but none of the locals seemed to think anything of it, so Natasha kept her expression blank and let him float close enough to squint at the char marks on her body armor where the arrows had hit. She half-expected him to ask her to strip so he could examine the wounds properly, but he just held out his wand and started murmuring a string of nonsense syllables. An odd warmth gathered around the sore spots on her shoulder and back, and she gave Clint and Steve a reassuring smile.

Princess Amalia folded her arms. She was still standing over them, tall and haughty, and when she spoke her voice was cool: “You know Loki from before.”

“Yes,” Steve said carefully.

“He doesn’t like you very much,” the archer woman Evangelyne said.

Steve gave a rueful chuckle. “It’s mutual.”

“Why?” Amalia demanded.

Steve looked over at Natasha. She knew what he was thinking: they couldn’t afford to alienate Loki, not while they still needed his help to save Thor, and definitely not while he had Stark at his mercy, but they also likely needed to make nice to the local rulers, which meant not disseminating or telling blatant lies. She raised an eyebrow, aware that Steve was very carefully not looking at Clint; he took it for the silent go-ahead it was, and turned back to Amalia. “I’m not— We know he’s your friend. But you should also know what he’s capable of.” He hesitated. “Loki was… insane, when we first ran into him. He turned a hostile alien army loose on our world. Killed a lot of people. We fought him, drove off the army. Fought him again when he came back with Jahanna, which was when we found out that the alien army was part of his plan to stop a much bigger threat from destroying the whole universe. But that doesn’t do much good for the people who died.”

Natasha risked a glance at Clint while Steve spoke. His jaw was set and his eyes fixed firmly on the floor, but he swallowed hard and added, “And he mind-controlled people. Including me.”

“Mind-controlled?” Evangelyne repeated, sounding skeptical.

Clint lifted his head to scowl at her. “He shoved his way into my brain and set up shop. For three days. I was nothing more than a _puppet_ ,” he spat. “And he used me to kill some of those people.”

Evangelyne winced, and she and Amalia traded a grim look. Timov paused in his murmuring and the warmth just under Natasha’s skin went briefly cold. Behind them, the old mercenary Ruel looked away, mouth twisted in an uneasy frown. Tristepin looked from the girls to Ruel and back, and folded his arms. “Oh, come _on_ ,” he said sharply. “Don’t tell me you’re going to let that change how you think about him?”

“Of course we are, Iop-brain,” Amalia snapped. “If he really did—”

“Hey! Who’s being a Iop-brain now?” Tristepin interrupted. “We all know exactly what Yugo would say if he were here.”

From the variously fond, amused, and exasperated expressions on the others’ faces, Natasha could tell that they did know – but Evangelyne still said, “Pinpin, Yugo was willing to forgive _Nox_. Even if he’d also forgive Loki—”

“You can’t?” Tristepin said. “Why not? I did a lot of terrible things before I tamed Rubilax. I wrecked Alibert’s inn, I hurt a lot of people.” He met Evangelyne’s eyes, his expression deadly serious for a moment. “I _broke your bow_ , Eva.” He looked around at the others. “But you all forgave me. You gave me a chance. Don’t you think Loki deserves the same?”

Natasha reached out and caught Clint’s hand. His fingers were cold and painfully tight around hers; she remembered sitting in a tent in the desert and hearing him say _I feel like I’m not even allowed to hate him._ It was hard, and it hurt, and she knew it. But she also remembered much further back, seeing a SHIELD assassin who’d been sent to kill the Black Widow, hearing him say instead, _come back with me._ And she knew he remembered it, too.

God, it was a wonder that they were all – well. As sane as any of them really were.

Evangelyne caved first, shaking her head with a faint fond smile. “It doesn’t happen often, but when you’re right, Pinpin, you’re right.”

“I suppose,” Amalia said. “We haven’t turned Ruel out yet either, so...”

“Bah!” Ruel said, but Natasha could tell from the exaggerated roll of his eyes, and the way Amalia grinned, that the snark was old and familiar, comfortable insults between longtime companions.

“And Loki has done a lot for us,” Amalia continued.

“Er,” Bruce spoke up. “What, exactly, _does_ Loki do here, anyway?”

“He’s an ambassador,” Evangelyne explained. “Mostly for Yugo and the Eliatropes, but sometimes King Sheran Sharm asks him to represent the Sadida Kingdom.”

“He prevented a war between New Sufokia and the rest of the world almost single-handedly,” Amalia said. “Several of Bonta’s nobles were agitating for war – Regnom the Fierce, Salar Rak, Ush Galesh... even Master Joris was advocating for a fight. They thought it would be best to crush the Sufokians fast and hard. Loki talked them all down and saved the Sadida Kingdom and Amakna from getting drawn into a war we didn’t want.”

“And he and Jahanna have been teaching Yugo and Adamaï, and raising Chibi and Grougal,” Evangelyne added.

Natasha blinked. That explained why Loki had been carrying the kid when they’d first found him, but the thought of someone like Loki – a warrior and a murderer, not to mention a prince and a diplomat – raising children was downright absurd.

“For every Rushu, there’s a Goultard,” Tristepin said. “And if my master can do it by himself, then Loki can definitely do it with Yugo around to help.”

“Uh,” Steve said. “A Goultard?”

“Goultard the Barbarian,” Evangelyne explained. “Long before Ogrest’s Chaos, he was possessed by a demon and became the most feared man in the world, slaughtering everyone and everything that crossed his path.”

“But he got better!” Tristepin said proudly. “And taught me everything I know!”

“He became the new Iop god,” Evangelyne added. “He’s been in Rushu’s World for the last three years, fighting Rushu, the king of the shushus.”

“Ah,” Steve said, although Natasha was pretty sure none of that had meant anything more to him than it had to her, except that she was going to keep a closer eye on Tristepin. She was almost positive the jolly-idiot persona wasn’t an act, but if he’d been trained by some kind of demon-god…

The healer Timov waved his wand over Natasha one more time, then drew back, wings buzzing. “There,” he said. “You’re all set. Who’s next?”

“Cap,” Clint said, nodding at Steve. Natasha frowned at him; he squeezed her hand in reassurance and she reluctantly let it pass. She’d seen him fall from the tree, but he _had_ managed to hit Amalia’s crash flower, and he knew better than to try to hide injuries from her.

As Timov flew over to examine Steve, Princess Amalia said to them, “You said back in the Zaap grove that a friend of yours had been kidnapped, and that Jahanna could help you find them. What’s the rest of the story?”

“The friend is Loki’s brother Thor,” Natasha said, because Steve was occupied watching Timov skeptically. “And the kidnapper took him because it thinks he can tell it where to find the Eliacube.”

Amalia, Evangelyne, Tristepin, and Ruel all traded glances, the same look the women had shared back in the grove when they’d gotten their first good look at the Mechasm sphere. Then Amalia went over to the chair Loki had used and sat down with her legs crossed primly, her chin lifting and her brown eyes fixing on Natasha with a cold authority that rivaled Nick Fury’s. “Tell us everything,” she ordered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Goultard is the best.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WahcxcgmmoU) Also, Sacriers are _terrifying._


	15. Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "In my experience, it takes someone who received similar training, to do what you did to them."   
> - _Thor_

“So Loki,” Tony said as he stepped through the portal into the Blank Dimension. He was more relieved than he wanted to admit to see that while the others were already filing through the second portal back to the World of Twelve, Loki had stopped near the first portal to wait for him. Tony kept his eyes fixed on Loki’s face and very carefully didn’t look down at the empty ( _don’t think about it_ ). “Another question.” Loki’s eyes narrowed and Tony plunged ahead before Loki could refuse: “All the dragons except Adamaï talk in the third person. Why? It doesn’t make sense as a translation issue for the language of concepts thing, since it’s only the dragons. Is it a cultural thing? Why doesn’t Adamaï do it?”

Tony was walking toward the second portal as he spoke, and it was creepy how Loki moved with him, body turning to fall into step with Tony while his eyes stayed locked on Tony’s with unnerving green intensity. Tony stared back, remembering how Loki had closed down earlier, not sure if Loki was searching for something in his expression or if this was just what he looked like when he was actually paying attention to someone. They stepped through the second portal and out into the treetop balcony in the Sadida Kingdom, and Tony squinted against the brilliant midday sunlight, swallowing down the familiar portal nausea. When he could see again Loki had looked away, watching the others as they headed down the stairs. He’d been quiet long enough that Tony didn’t think he was going to answer, but then Loki said, “It _is_ related to how Allspeak translates concepts, actually.”

Tony frowned at him. “How so? ‘I’ isn’t the same concept as ‘Tony’—”

“Exactly,” Loki said. “Do you have any idea how old Phaeris is?”

“...No?”

“In this incarnation alone he has lived longer than Asgard’s entire reign,” Loki said. “Moreover, dragons are primordial beings, as the titans were. Their sense of self is considerably more advanced than a mortal’s, or an Aesir’s. You may have noticed that dragons speak mind-to-mind, yes?” Tony nodded, and Loki continued, “A dragon’s concept of himself is well beyond what your mind, or even mine, can safely compass. Adamaï is very young still, so it is not yet dangerous for him to speak the concept of his identity aloud, but even he will soon need to make the switch.”  

“Dangerous?” Tony asked. “So it could, what, hurt someone if a dragon says ‘I’?”

Loki turned to look at him, eyes gleaming. Tony couldn’t tell if it was mischief or malice, and swallowed hard. Without taking his eyes off Tony’s, Loki said, “Tikal, would you mind demonstrating for Mister Stark what it sounds like when a dragon speaks of himself?”

Tony looked over in time to see Tikalukatal and Jahanna share a bemused grin, then the dragon leaped back up to where Tony and Loki still stood on the balcony. “Tikalukatal will show you,” he said, “if you are willing.”

Couldn’t back out now. “Sure,” Tony said.

Tikalukatal smiled, wide enough to show rows of sharp teeth, and opened his mouth to speak—

Tony blinked. There was blue sky above him, and he was sprawled awkwardly on the wooden floor of the balcony. A massive clock was ticking somewhere in the distance, _tick-tock-tick-tock_ , and after a minute it faded to the pounding of his pulse beneath his skull. His head hurt, a throbbing headache behind his eyes like he’d been up too many nights in a row working on the suit, words and numbers and thoughts spinning through his brain too fast to catch, and he lifted a hand to rub his temple. “Ow,” he groaned. “I can see why that would be a conversation stopper.”

Loki leaned into his field of vision, the corners of his eyes crinkled like he was trying very hard not to smile. “Tikal is young for a dragon,” he said. “If Phaeris had been the one to speak, you would be dead.”

“Great,” Tony muttered. “Thanks for being so considerate.” He closed his eyes again, waiting for the pounding in his head to fade.

“You can stand, yes?” Loki said brightly. “We’ve no time to wait for you to recover from your brush with grammar.”

“I hate you,” Tony grumbled, but took the hint and struggled to his feet. The sunlight hurt his eyes and he was pretty sure the headache wasn’t going away any time soon, but if he squinted and walked carefully, he could follow them down the stairs.

Still, he considered this a victory. Loki had answered his question – even if he also seemed to find Tony’s pain amusing – and he hadn’t closed down the way he had earlier. Baby steps, sure, but if letting Loki tease him a little was what it took for them to work together, to find Thor, then it was totally worth it.

*             *             *

Evangelyne didn’t say anything as the foreigners – the aliens? That was going to take some time to get used to – explained what had brought them to the World of Twelve, and what Loki and Jahanna believed the sphere meant. She could tell that Amalia was boiling, anger at Yugo for trying yet again to shield her from danger, combined with the perpetual frustration that came from dealing with Loki and Jahanna, who were both equally bad about not telling the whole story. Tristepin was practically vibrating with excitement, of course, because he was a Iop and this sounded like it could be a bigger fight than the battle on the Crimson Claws. Ruel was picking his nose, looking bored, but she knew full well that if he was _actually_ bored he’d be asleep by now.

For her part, Eva was worried. Qilby might have lied about a lot of things, but at least when it came to the part about the Mechasms destroying the Eliatropes’ homeworld, his story had been corroborated by Jahanna. Eva knew what Yugo and Jahanna were capable of, had heard Adamaï’s account of what Qilby could do. Had seen the raw might of ancient Grougaloragran before his rebirth, and watched Phaeris fight the New Sufokians. If the Mechasms had been able to destroy a world full of people like them, then Eva couldn’t see much hope for her own world.

Captain Rogers was trying to explain how they knew Loki’s brother – a story which apparently had to do with the invasion Loki had led against their world in the course of trying to stop a creature called a titan – when Yugo and Adamaï came around the doorway onto the patio. Phaeris, Tikal, and Jahanna  were close behind them, and all five wore dark expressions. Eva stood automatically and Tikal helped Jahanna sit down in her vacated seat; Eva remembered all too well what it was like to be in the last month of a pregnancy. Loki and the last of the aliens, Tony Stark if Eva remembered correctly, brought up the rear. Stark was rubbing his temples, his face scrunched as if in pain, and Eva could tell that Loki was half-braced to catch him if he toppled suddenly.

“Tony,” Rogers said sharply. “What happened, are you all right?” He was on his feet in an instant, crossing the patio to take Stark by the arm.

“I’m fine,” Stark said. “Well, I’m not fine, but I should know better than to say ‘yes’ when the God of Mischief says something is dangerous and then offers a demonstration.” He collapsed into the chair Rogers had vacated, slumping over his knees and kneading his temples. Rogers turned to scowl at Loki, who was doing his innocent face. Stark waved a hand vaguely without looking up. “Not his fault, Steve, down, boy. Self-inflicted wound. Curiosity killing cats.”

Eva left them to it and turned to where Amalia had stood to glare down her nose at Yugo, her arms crossed over her chest. Yugo rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh…”

“Mechasms, Yugo,” Amalia said flatly. “You didn’t think we needed to know about _MECHASMS?!_?” Her voice rose to a shout on the last word and Eva couldn’t help but be amused at the way the aliens flinched back hard.

“You can blame me,” Loki spoke up before Yugo could say anything. Amalia transferred her glare to him, but he met it unflinching. “Considering the Mechasms haven’t been seen in millenia, I saw no point in raising possibly unnecessary alarm.”

“But it’s not unnecessary, is it,” Eva said.

“Unfortunately, no,” Jahanna said.

“Okay,” Captain Rogers said. “So you’ve confirmed it was Mechasms who took Thor. What’s our next step?” His tone was brisk, businesslike; it was no wonder he was a captain.

“We need to find them,” Yugo said. “Before they find us.”

Rogers looked at Loki. “Can you track Thor like you tracked the Infinity Gems?”

“If I could,” Loki said, annoyance in his tone, “I would have by now. But even were he my brother by blood, the locating spell does not work over such a distance.”

“What kind of distance are we talking about?” Banner asked.

“The Mechasms are spacefarers,” Phaeris said, and gestured upward with a clawed hand. “They could be anywhere among the stars.”

“Poetic,” Stark said, “and also problematic. It’s _really_ difficult to track things in space.”

“There might…” Loki said, then shook his head. “No, that won’t work.”

“What won’t work?” Yugo asked. “Maybe we can make it work.”

“Do you know of the masks of Karail?” Loki said. Yugo shook his head, and so did Eva and the others when Loki looked around the room at them. “They’re powerful artifacts,” Loki explained. “Karail carved each of them with a particular ability. Stealth, strength, regeneration. And one in particular, intended as a gift for a Sram. A mask to locate a target, no matter where in the universe that target might be.”

Eva’s eyebrows went up. That would have to be some powerful magic.

“Unfortunately,” Loki continued, “the mask is currently part of a collection held by the most dangerous of Bonta’s seven nobles, Ush Galesh.”

“So let’s go ask him for it,” Yugo said. “If we tell him it’s to save the world—”

“Ush Galesh is as protective of his collections as an Enutrof,” Loki said. “He would laugh us out of Bonta, even if it meant letting the world burn.”

“Can we steal it?” the Sram woman – Natasha? – spoke up.

“I doubt it,” Loki said. “Galesh is old, and powerful. It’s likely he is the son of Ecaflip himself. He toys with thieves as a cat with mice – it’s even whispered that the cats in his tower _are_ those who dared try to steal from him.”

It took a second for Eva to remember that _cats_ was the word Loki used for bow meows. The language spoken on his world was similar enough to that of the World of Twelve for most conversation, but every once in a while, they encountered unexpected differences.

“He can turn people into cats?” Captain Rogers asked, eyebrows raising.

Loki shrugged. “It’s a simple enough transmutation, at least for me. This world mostly lost the knowledge of such magic when the alchemist Otomai died.”

“Wait, _you_ can turn people into cats?” Stark demanded.

“Into cats and back,” Loki said with a smirk. “Or frogs, which I understand are the traditional animal of choice for Midgardian sorcerers.”

“So if we get caught,” Rogers said, “he just turns us into cats? That’s not—”

Loki fixed him with an exasperated look. “Thieves who amuse him get turned into cats. Thieves he does _not_ find amusing, get fed to those cats.”

Rogers blinked. “Oh.”

“‘Oh’ indeed,” Loki agreed sarcastically. “Only one man has ever survived an attempt to steal from Ush Galesh, and even he did not emerge unscathed. It’s far too dangerous—”

“Oh come on,” Stark said. “You stole six Infinity Gems and the Tesseract from under seriously heavy guard, you’re telling me that you can’t—”

“ _I_ can’t,” Loki interrupted sharply, “because I am an ambassador for the Eliatrope people. For me – or Yugo – to steal from one of Bonta’s nobles would be a declaration of war by the Eliatropes against Bonta. Likewise, were Amalia to be involved, it would be a declaration of war by the Sadida Kingdom. I’m sure you can grasp why that’s not an optimal outcome.”

“So who did survive stealing from Ush Galesh?” Yugo asked. “Maybe we can ask him how he did it.”

Loki glanced at him, but then turned to give Eva the smile he only used when he was up to something. “A rogue named Remington Smisse.”

“Reming—” Eva said, startled, then sighed and covered her eyes with her hand. “Cra help us.” She did _not_ want anything to do with that bastard ever again, and she was pretty sure that if Tristepin saw him again he’d put Rubilax through Remington’s heart. Still, there was no denying that the damned rogue was good at what he did. When he wasn’t screwing himself over by stabbing people in the back. And if Ush Galesh turned people into bow meows, it would explain Remington’s talking bow meow Grany, whom he’d called his brother.

Loki waved a hand dismissively, the mischievous smile fading. “As I said, obtaining the Sram mask is impossible. There’s no point in discussing it further.” He turned to Amalia, but as he did his eyes caught Eva’s for a just a moment. She didn’t have to nod; he knew she knew. “Princess,” Loki said to Amalia, “we should inform your father of what’s happening. Yugo, Adamaï, you should probably come as well.”

Eva saw Captain Rogers open his mouth to speak and said quickly, “We’ll keep looking for a way to find the Mechasms.” Yugo looked between her and Loki, and she saw the understanding dawn on him. She caught his eye and winked.

“Good,” Loki said. He offered Jahanna his arm to lever herself out of the chair and started for the door, but paused as he passed the Sram woman. Before she could react he’d scooped up her hand and brushed his lips over the back of her fingers in a gentleman’s kiss. “The absolute _best_ of luck to you,” he murmured.

Well, if he was going to do that, the Sram wasn’t a bad choice. Eva caught Jahanna’s eye and they traded an amused smile as the Sram yanked her hand back and her Cra companion glared daggers at Loki. Loki just smirked brightly at them and sauntered out of the room, Jahanna on his arm, Amalia, Yugo, and the three dragons behind him.

*             *             *

“Wait, hold on,” Stark said into the silence. “Did he just do what I think he did?”

Natasha ignored him, fighting down the urge to rub her hand on her pants. It might have just been her imagination, but she could have sworn she’d felt a bizarre static tingle trace electric lines up her arm and through her body when Loki had kissed her hand. _He only did it to provoke Clint_ , she reminded herself. _He’s testing us. That’s all_. And very possibly trying to distract them from something else; his smile was different without the void of madness behind it, but she could still recognize the way he’d looked during the invasion and the Infinity War when he was setting something up. And not just the thing Stark was somewhat belatedly realizing – there was something else Loki was hiding from them.

“Loki didn’t do anything,” Evangelyne said calmly. “Like he said, there’s nothing he, or Yugo or Amalia or any of them, can do.”

Stark rolled his eyes, and Steve snorted as he got it, too. Evangelyne smiled – and maybe that was why everyone on this planet seemed to have fangs, because she suddenly looked dangerous – and continued, “But none of us are royalty. So pack your bags if you have any. We’re going to Bonta.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If y'all like Wakfu and want to support its creators, express interest in a Season 3, or just watch it in English, Ankama's currently running a Kickstarter for an official English dub on Blu-Ray! If they hit their first stretch goal, we'll also get official English and Spanish subtitles. [Check it out!](http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1836563008/wakfu-the-animated-series) :D


	16. In Motion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Oh, crois-moi petit dragon, il y a bien pire que le trépas.”_  
>  -Wakfu S2E20, “Le Zinit”

None of the Avengers had bags to pack, and apparently neither did Ruel – he just slung a ratty old saddlebag onto the hook of his glaive-spear-shovel-thing – so the biggest delay ended up being Evangelyne and Tristepin arranging childcare for their daughter, and then saying goodbye to her. Tony was more than a little surprised to learn they _had_ a daughter; they both looked barely out of high school. If this world had high school, which wasn’t likely. Still, less than an hour later, the group was ready to leave.

“We’re going to need dragoturkeys,” Evangelyne said as they walked down a winding path toward the ground. “The nearest Zaap to Bonta is still half a day’s ride, and that’s assuming we manage to go straight there.” From her tone, she didn’t think that was likely.

“Uh, what’s a dragoturkey?” Barton asked.

“Oh that’s right,” Evangelyne said. “I forgot, Loki didn’t know what they were, either. They’re riding animals.”

Tony had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn’t going to like what that meant, a suspicion which was borne out when they arrived at the stables a few minutes later. Dragoturkeys turned out to be exactly what they sounded like: a seven-foot-tall cross between a lizard and a turkey, with hooked beaklike mouths, thin chicken legs ending in huge taloned feet, and tails studded with bony spikes. Natasha and Barton took the things in stride, climbing into their saddles like they’d been doing it their whole lives, but when Evangelyne made to hand him a set of reins, Tony shook his head.  “No way,” he said. “It looks like a five-year-old’s drawing of a t-rex. It’s going to eat me or something.”

“They’re tamed,” Evangelyne said, smiling. “They won’t hurt you.” She pushed the reins into his hands and leaped onto the back of her own dragoturkey.

Tony turned to Steve for help, only to find him already swinging up onto his mount. “Okay,” Tony said crossly, and waved a hand at Natasha and Barton. “They’re SHIELD, I can buy them knowing how to ride horses. Things. But you’re from Brooklyn. Why do _you_ know how?”

Steve grinned. “Back in my day, we didn’t have fancy flying war suits,” he said. “Sometimes the only way to get around in Europe was on horseback.”

Tony looked to Bruce next, but he, too, was already mounted. “Egypt,” he said apologetically.

“Ugh,” Tony said. He eyed his dragoturkey suspiciously. It was staring vaguely into the distance, ignoring him.

“What’s the matter, Stark?” Steve teased. “Can’t ride it if it’s not Italian?”

“Hey, for the record, some of my cars are German,” Tony shot back. He hooked a foot into the stirrup and managed to clamber awkwardly onto the dragoturkey’s back. Thankfully, the thing didn’t prance or hop or whatever it was horses did when they didn’t like you; it just kept staring blankly ahead. Then Evangelyne spurred her dragoturkey forward, Tony’s lurched into motion after it, and Tony had to cling ungracefully to its neck to keep from falling off.

By the time they reached the main thoroughfare out of the Sadida Kingdom, Tony was able to make himself let go of the dragoturkey enough to sit up and watch where they were going. They were following the same road out that they'd come in on, and Tony leaned back in his saddle, craning his neck to try to see the palace in the trees overhead. He spotted one of the walkways they'd crossed on the way up to Loki's workroom and traced it back through the branches, and saw Jahanna leaning on a balcony railing directly above them. She wasn't looking at them; Tony didn't think she'd seen them—

—then between one dragoturkey step and the next, the world vanished and Tony found himself standing in the white emptiness of the Blank Dimension. Except there hadn't been a portal, and his mount was gone, and the other Avengers were there too, looking as startled as Tony felt—

"Consider this your warning," a woman's voice said, echoing through the emptiness. The white took on a blue tinge, like the Tesseract, like Loki's scepter, and then heat like a dragon's breath blasted them. Tony couldn't turn, couldn't move at all, but he recognized Jahanna's voice, cold and powerful like she'd sounded in the throne room of Asgard during the Infinity War; recognized the weight of Tikalukatal's presence. Something like memories flashed through Tony’s mind, though he’d never seen the images before: Amalia frowning, Steve saying _he killed a lot of people_ , Evangelyne eyeing Loki with a worried crease between her brows, Barton’s voice saying _he mind-controlled me_.

"My husband has worked hard and suffered much to get where he is now," Jahanna continued flatly. "If any of you ruin that, if any of you dare hurt him again, you will learn what it means to suffer."

As abruptly as it had started it was over, the white emptiness gone and the world rushing back around him. Tony sucked in a sharp breath, clinging to his dragoturkey's reins and fighting the urge to look up to where Jahanna had stood overhead. He was dimly aware of the others gasping, shifting on their mounts as they came back to their bodies, of Tristepin looking over his shoulder at them with a frown.

"You guys all right?" Tristepin asked.

"Fine," Tony said, and faked a smile. "Just... carsick. Horse-sick? Whatever."

Tristepin nodded. "Even the best warriors get sick," he said sagely. "When we first got on the boat to Oma Island..."

Tony let the knight's words wash over him without really listening. He looked over at Steve, who met his eyes with grim understanding. Loki might be protective of his pregnant wife, but Jahanna – and her dragon brother – were just as protective of Loki. The Avengers had seen what Jahanna and Tikalukatal were capable of during the Infinity War, and Tony really didn’t like the thought of all that power turned against him. Or his friends.

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. There was no way this could possibly end well.

*             *             *

Loki found Jahanna leaning on a balcony rail, eyes closed, weariness in every line of her body. Tikal, in his ermine form, was curled on the railing between her forearms, ears twitching at the sound of Loki's footsteps. "How are you doing?" Loki asked.

"Fine," Jahanna answered, then sighed. "Well, no, I'm not fine, I'm nine months pregnant and my back hurts and I haven't been able to see my feet for weeks—"

Loki smiled at the familiar litany of complaints. Taking them for the hint they were, he moved up behind her and began rubbing her back, fingers digging into the tense muscles in her shoulders and along her spine. "King Oakbeard took the news about as well as you'd expect," he told her. "Amalia's still shouting down Prince Armand."

"And Yugo?"

"Trying to pretend he doesn't feel solely responsible for all this."

Jahanna snorted. "Adamai hasn't smacked him yet?"

"He's considering it," Loki said. "But you know Yugo. He'll feel responsible no matter how much we tell him it's not his fault." He nudged her as he said it, pointedly. He might not have her mind powers, but he was the God of Lies and he could tell she was trying to hide just how guilty she felt for what was ultimately Qilby's eons-old decision.

"I know," she said with another sigh, and he knew she'd heard what he was really saying. "But... we're not exactly helping our case that returning the Eliatropes to this world won't cause problems for the other nations."

"We'll handle it," Loki said, and if the confidence in his voice was faked, she was too distracted to notice. "We two stopped Thanos, do you think we cannot handle a few Mechasms?"

“Mmm.” She tugged his arms around her; he rested his hands on the curve of her belly. The thought that there was a tiny life inside her – a life he had helped create – terrified Loki even as it awed him. He’d hoped to get through the birth (and preferably the child’s first year of life; he remembered all too well caring for the infant Chibi) without any crises. But _of course_ —

“What about you?” Jahanna asked softly, interrupting his train of thought. More than three years together, and he still couldn’t decide whether he hated her uncanny ability to do that, or was glad for it. She tilted her head back against his shoulder. “How are you holding up?”

He thought about Thor. About the last time he’d seen his brother, more than half a year ago on Asgard. Sitting beside him, wondering – hoping – that maybe, in time, the good memories could come to outweigh the bad.

Remembered the view from Emrub, the Mechasm grabbing Thor in a crushing grip and vanishing.

“I’ll manage,” Loki answered. His voice was rougher than he’d meant it to be.

Jahanna laced her fingers through his and squeezed. Tikal, in his ermine form, darted up Loki’s arm to settle around his shoulders, a familiar reassuring warmth. None of them spoke for a few minutes, the sounds of the city below filling the silence until Loki trusted his voice to speak again.

“We should go to the Zinit,” he said. “It may hold information we can use.”

Jahanna nodded, and he knew she’d been thinking the same thing. “Qilby’s lab might… I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe we’ll be lucky and he’ll have recorded what he knew of the Mechasms.”

“Someone should have,” Loki agreed, “if the Zinit was the Eliatropes’ escape vessel from the Mechasms’ first attack.”

“Unless Qilby destroyed it all,” Jahanna said, and he could hear the bitterness in her voice.

“Then we hope he did not,” Loki said.

“You carry a burden which is not yours,” Tikal added, lifting his head from Loki’s shoulder to poke Jahanna with his nose. “Adamaï is not the only dragon whose sibling should be smacked.”

“You can’t hit me, I’m pregnant,” Jahanna said, and stuck out her tongue at him.

“Children,” Loki said warningly. It was enough to make Jahanna crack a smile, to make Tikal chuckle, and Loki smiled too. It was faked, and he knew they both knew it, but it was all he had right now.

It would have to be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [marketing voice]  
> Still plugging the [Wakfu kickstarter](https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1836563008/wakfu-the-animated-series)! In just one week we've reached three of the stretch goals, and we're tantalizingly close to the fourth, which IMO is the best: Season 2 dubbed and included for free! If you've ever wanted to watch Wakfu, $40 CAD ($36 USD) gets you all of Season 1, and at the rate we're going all of Season 2, on Blu-Ray! (Plus a bunch of other cool stuff!)  
> [/marketing voice]


	17. The Zinit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Son système de fonctionnement dépend entièrement de l’Eliacube."_  
>  -Wakfu S2E20, "Le Zinit"

Adamaï very much did not like the idea of going to the Zinit with them, though Loki could hardly blame him. He’d heard the secondhand accounts of what Qilby had done to Adamaï and Grougaloragran there. Still, when Loki asked if he’d prefer to stay behind, he shook his head adamantly. “Staying behind when everyone else was doing something was how I ended up like that in the first place,” he said.

Yugo was visibly torn between being upset for Adamaï’s sake and being excited – for all that the Zinit held bad memories for Adamaï, it also, potentially, held a great deal of information about the Eliatrope people. Loki and Jahanna had been discussing a trip to the Zinit with Yugo for a while, but it had always got pushed back behind more urgent matters: caring for Chibi, the brewing war between New Sufokia and the rest of the world, Jahanna’s pregnancy. Now, though, the Zinit, and the information it might hold, could be the Eliatropes’ last resort against the Mechasms.

Loki had half-heartedly tried to talk Jahanna out of going with them – he knew how difficult walking was for her – but she pointed out that they would likely need her to get into Qilby’s labs. He couldn’t deny that, nor could he deny that they would also probably need her knowledge of Eliatrope history, language, and magic. Phaeris and Tikalukatal were their only other sources of that information, and while Loki knew neither of them was actively trying to withhold anything, it seemed to be the nature of dragons to be frustratingly laconic.

They gathered on a treetop patio: Loki, Jahanna, Yugo, Tikalukatal, and Phaeris, while Adamaï leaned against a wall with his arms folded over his chest. Phaeris had the second Eliacube, the one Baltazar had said belonged to Qilby, with him; when Loki made to retrieve Nora’s cube from where he’d vanished it for safekeeping, Phaeris shook his head and handed Qilby’s cube to Jahanna. “You will need this to power the Zinit,” he said.

She nodded. The cube clicked and spun over her palm, then a portal swirled into existence. Phaeris and Tikal stepped through, and Yugo started to go after them, then paused when Adamaï didn’t move. “Ad…” he said.

“I’m coming,” Adamaï said, and pushed off the wall to join Yugo beside the portal. Seemingly unaware of the motion, he reached up a hand to rub at his horn, the one Qilby had cut off near the base.

Yugo winced and tried to cover it with a smile. “C’mon, bro,” he said. He grabbed Adamaï’s arm and tugged him through the portal.

Loki and Jahanna followed, emerging into a vast, dark, round room. The only light came from thin lines of wakfu along walls that curved away at the edge of sight, decorated with swirling, flowerlike gold and silver designs that gleamed dully in the dim blue light. A narrow pedestal stood at the center of the room, in the middle of a spiraling pattern of lines on the floor which flowed out all the way to the walls. Loki squinted against the gloom, frowning. Aside from the pedestal, he could see nothing to indicate that this was a spaceship, or even anything other than simply a large room. The only doorway was the arch into which Jahanna’s portal had opened; there were no sign of other exits, or controls, or… anything, really.

Jahanna, at least, seemed to know what she was doing. She led the way to the pedestal and waved the Eliacube into the center of its three thin arms. Wakfu ran down the center column of the pedestal and out along the spiral in the floor, then a double chime echoed through the chamber, and the lines of wakfu shot out in bright angular patterns that reminded Loki unsettlingly of the Mechasm’s glowing markings. The floor rumbled, and then, starting at the outer edges of the wall, began to collapse downward along the spiral floor markings until nothing remained save a tall column at the center of the room, surrounded by a spiral staircase that plunged down into the darkness.

“Shinonome made sure we knew how to work the Zinit,” Jahanna said softly. She called the Eliacube back to her; it shifted form to an owl and perched on her shoulder. Adamaï hissed softly at it, and Yugo put a hand on his arm. “Glip thought it was silly,” Jahanna continued. “This world was meant to be its final resting place, and he made sure we knew _that_.” She traded a smile with Tikalukatal, faint and sad. “They argued a lot.”

Abruptly she turned away from the pedestal, hands reaching to open portals at the top and bottom of the spiral staircase. “The main part of the ship is down here. We can try Qilby’s lab first.”

“C’mon, bro,” Yugo said to Adamaï. “Race you to the bottom!” He dove over the edge of the platform as he said it, portals flashing, and Adamaï followed hot on his heels.

Loki was glad that Yugo was making the effort to distract Adamaï. The mood was solemn enough as it was: Tikalukatal was lost in thought, Phaeris’s wakfu-blue eyes were narrowed in memory, and it was taking Loki more of an effort than normal to keep up an unbothered facade. He followed the dragons down the staircase to where Jahanna waited; Yugo and Adamaï were already racing across the room toward one of several egg-shaped archways leading deeper into the ship. The adults followed, angular wakfu lines stretching out along the floor to light their path as they walked.

The arch led to a curving hallway, revealed in the wakfu light to be lined with paintings and murals in the Eliatropes’ distinctive blocky style. Yugo came up short as he spotted them, breathing out a _whoa_ as he paced slowly along the wall. “What is all this?” he asked.

“It is the history of our people,” Phaeris answered. “The Eliatropes and the dragons.”

“Wow,” Yugo whispered. He drifted along the hallway, eyes on the murals, drinking them in. Loki wanted to do the same, wanted to take the time to study the murals, to understand the story they told. But the memory of Thor crushed in the Mechasm’s grip spun at the back of his mind, a constant ache that soured the thought of such an extended study. Still, he couldn’t help feeling a little grateful that Jahanna couldn’t walk very fast right now. Loki might not be able to give the murals the attention they deserved, but he could also walk slowly enough to admire them.

After several minutes, the hall ended at a much larger hallway, easily big enough to fit a full-grown dragon, running crossways to their current path. On the far wall, a massive pair of double doors stretched nearly to the ceiling, carved and painted with images of bizarre creatures trapped in oblong cages. A large disc was set into the doors at eye level, and even from across the hall Loki could sense the powerful wards and binding spells woven into the doors and centered on the disc.

“Ad,” Yugo said quietly, and Loki turned to see that Adamaï had fallen behind them, staring up at the doors apprehensively.

Adamaï blinked and shook himself. “What?” he said, though his tone was more bravado than bravery.

“Maybe we should split up,” Yugo said. “Jahanna and Tikal and Loki can look around in Qilby’s lab, and you and I can go with Phaeris to see if there’s any other rooms that have something we can use. —It’s a big place,” he added when Adamaï opened his mouth to protest. “We can cover more ground that way.”

Adamaï snorted – he knew as well as the rest of them that it was just Yugo’s way of trying to protect him – but nodded. “All right,” he said.

“See if you can find Chibi’s rooms,” Jahanna suggested. “He was a scientist as well as a prophet. He might have kept records.”

“Okay!” Yugo said, and dashed along the bigger hallway, wakfu lines flaring under his feet to light the darkness. Adamaï chased after him, calling for him to wait up, and Phaeris just sighed, summoned his wings, and took off after them.

Loki turned back to Jahanna in time to see her wince and put a hand on her stomach, a sure sign the baby was kicking. He took her arm, letting her lean on him as she turned her attention to the doors. “Do you know how to open it?” he asked.

“I think so,” she answered. Her eyes flickered briefly blue as she called her wakfu-sight, then she lifted a finger to point at the disc in the center of the doors. A ball of blue light shot out from her finger through the air to the door, leaving behind rings of draconic runes floating in the air. The ball struck the center of the disc, and wakfu light spread out along the lines and curves of the disc’s markings. A mechanical _clunk_ echoed through the hall, and the doors rumbled apart, sliding into the walls on either side and revealing massive interlocking teeth meant to reinforce the doors against impact.

Loki raised an eyebrow. He took measures to guard his own labs, but this was beyond even his habit. Whatever Qilby had done in that lab, it clearly involved something very dangerous. _Like Mechasms_. “You told me once,” he said thoughtfully, “that Qilby started the war with the Mechasms. Do you know what it was he did, exactly?”

Jahanna shook her head. “Shinonome… she never talked about that. And Glip didn’t remember, he’d been born again many times between.”

The lab lit up as they walked through it, a gentle yellow glow in stark contrast to the blue wakfu light of the halls. And what it illuminated…

Tanks. Hundreds – thousands – of glass tanks of all sizes suspended from a ceiling that stretched so high overhead Loki couldn’t see it, each tank holding the body of a different alien creature floating in amber fluid. Loki stared, only half aware of Jahanna leading him forward through the forest of tanks. “What are they?” he whispered.

“Qilby’s collection,” Tikalukatal answered. “One of each creature from each world the Eliatropes have left behind.”

“Incredible,” Loki breathed. “How big is this place?”

“Shinonome told Tikalukatal once that most of the Zinit is storage for these creatures,” Tikal said. “But Qilby lied and told the other Eliatropes that it was machinery to make the Zinit fly.” He paused, then added, “Even Glip did not know.”

Loki shook his head in disbelief. There was no sign of the fight between Adamai and Qilby four years ago, except for a handful of suspension rods with no tanks on the end; Qilby must have taken the time to clean up before leaving to sell the World of Twelve to the demon Rushu. Far in the distance Loki could see the looming shape of another creature the size of a grown dragon, a shadow in the darker shadows of the room, and had to wonder how it was possible for Qilby to have collected them all. And whether there was a Mechasm among the collection.

Jahanna stopped walking, and Loki tore his gaze away from the tanks in time to be blinded by a flare of light from a huge machine stretching down from the ceiling. When he could see again, he frowned up at it. Pairs of portholes glowing bright blue ran up its body like eyes, while odd pipes and levers and mechanical arms jutted out along its sides, and he could see hinges and tracks along which the various plates of its body could move.

“Qilby’s primary examination container,” Jahanna said. “If he left any notes, they’re most likely to be here.”

“In what form?” Loki asked dubiously. Nothing around the giant machine looked remotely like what he would consider a lab table, or record books, or journals.

Jahanna narrowed her eyes briefly, then made a rather complicated gesture at the machine, wakfu flowing from her fingers. The thing clicked and whirred, panels sliding away along one side to reveal a series of wide, shallow shelves lined with hundreds of grape-sized crystals of wakfu. Each shelf was labeled in the Eliatrope script, although the labels were not very helpful: _Old Work, Anthropology, From Chibi,_ dates in a calendar Loki didn’t recognize, other assorted words and phrases. Nothing at all useful, such as “How to Kill Mechasms”.

Loki picked up a crystal from a shelf at random. He could feel magic thrumming through it, and activated it with a thought. A voice spoke from the crystal: _“It’s been six hours since submersion of the ridged Salathar beetle in a saline solution. Nothing. I’m starting to think I was wrong about the properties of its exoskeleton—”_ Loki silenced the crystal. The voice was recognizable as Qilby’s, but barely; the man dictating the notes in a brusque, professional tone was clearly years, perhaps lifetimes, away from the insane and broken creature Loki had met.

“Before he went mad,” Jahanna said softly, “he was a great scientist, who cured many diseases and advanced Eliatrope science far beyond what it would have been without him.”

He looked over to see her wrapping her arms around herself, gaze distant. “You don’t have to make excuses for him,” Loki said, just as softly.

Tikalukatal met Loki’s eyes, his voice sounding in Loki’s head where Jahanna couldn’t hear. _Glip wanted to ensure she remembered Qilby’s failings, the danger he posed. He feared that she would be just like him, when all was said and done. Shinonome tried to balance Glip’s words with reminders of what Qilby had accomplished, but it was a small weight against the cost of his betrayal._

Loki remembered the stories Odin had told when Loki was young, of the monster Laufey, the Jotun King. Of the terrible deeds and great evils wrought at Laufey’s hands. Of the foulness of the frost giants, and how unworthy they were of a place in the Nine Realms.

Remembered speaking with Laufey in Niflheim, and the gentleness with which Laufey had handled his infant son. Loki answered silently, _I understand._

Out loud, though, all he said was, “We should get started. Have you a preference for topic?”

Jahanna snorted, grim mood fading, and waved the Eliacube from her shoulder to take the shape of a stool for her to sit on. “This is going to take _forever_.”

*             *             *

Hours later, Loki leaned back and stretched, feeling the bones in his spine crack and pop. He had wondered what sort of notes would be useful to a man who remembered everything, and after listening to dozens of the crystals, had come to the conclusion that Qilby simply liked the sound of his own voice. The crystals held musings on everything from the medical applications of certain biological properties of exotic creatures, to complaints about Chibi ignoring him in favor of flirting with some woman. (It was strange to hear him refer to a Chibi who was a grown man, who had apparently worked closely with Qilby on more than one project, and eventually Loki had had to pretend that the adult of whom Qilby spoke, and the child Loki was now raising, were two wholly different people.)

But despite the range of topics, nothing had yet come up about the Mechasms, and Loki was starting to wonder if they’d been wrong, if Qilby had been cautious enough to avoid leaving behind any mention of his interactions with the Mechasms. Jahanna and Tikalukatal weren’t having any better luck with their crystals, either; nor was there any word yet from Yugo, Adamaï, and Phaeris, though Loki figured that Phaeris would at least keep the boys from getting into too much trouble.

With a sigh, he picked up the next crystal in the stack he was working through. He’d had high hopes for this set – Jahanna had tentatively identified its label as a date written in the calendar the Eliatropes had used on their homeworld – but so far it had produced only notes on minutia related to the construction of the Zinit itself. Information that would be fascinating at some other time, to be sure, but right now Loki could not care less about the compressive strength of different types of metal or the structural integrity of the living areas.

_“Power is a problem,”_ Qilby’s voice said from the crystal. _“For all our technology, we still have nothing capable of generating the amount of power my Zinit will need. I asked Malevax again to examine their power sources, but it seems those are the one piece of technology the Mechasms are not willing to share with us.”_

_Mechasms_. Loki sat forward, hastily drawing a silencing spell around himself to dim the sounds from Jahanna and Tikal’s crystals.

_“Their energy source is key to this project,”_ Qilby continued. _“Just as Eliatropes draw power from the dichotomy of life and death, so do the Mechasms draw power from the dichotomy of time and space. Wakfu and stasis are powerful in their own right, but that energy which comes from the flow of space through time is far better suited to the Zinit’s needs.”_ There was a pause, and for a bad moment Loki feared that that was the end of the note, but then there was a rustling of parchment and Qilby’s voice returned, frustrated: _“There must be a way to get my hands on a Mechasm power source. There_ must _! Perhaps if I—”_ Another pause, and when Qilby spoke again, Loki could almost see the dangerous smile on his lips. _“Yes. Oh, yes, I can do this. I’ll need Shinonome’s help, I think, and my Eliacube, and a focusing device, yes, and one of the Mechasms' ships. Perhaps a shuttle, they have many of them and wouldn’t hurt for the loss of one…”_

Qilby kept talking, and Loki kept listening. The idea he outlined was startlingly elegant, a neat deception that even Loki could admire. And, more importantly, could _use_. The loss of one shuttle might not have hurt the Mechasms eons ago, but once Loki had adapted Qilby’s design, they would find out just how much the Mechasms would hurt without any working ships at all. Adrift in the vastness of space, at the mercy of the pull of whatever celestial body they happened to be near (if they were lucky), or tumbling endlessly through the void...

Loki felt his mouth curl into a dangerous smile of his own. Oh, _yes_.

The Mechasms were going to regret crossing the God of Lies and Mischief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [marketing voice]  
> Still plugging the [Wakfu Kickstarter](https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1836563008/wakfu-the-animated-series)! Only one week left, and the rewards are getting even better as we hit the stretch goals. If you haven't pledged yet, what are you waiting for?  
> [/marketing voice]
> 
> **On a more serious note:** I knew before I started writing that La Legende was going to be a considerably more complex story than J'entre, in terms of both plot and characterization. What I didn't know was how busy my life would get in the last six months, and how that would affect the time I normally use for story planning and writing. I haven't been doing so well at keeping the once-a-week update schedule, and I'm noticing that my writing quality is slipping as I rush to make deadlines. Worse, the rush means I don't have time to plan ahead, which is absolutely necessary for the complexities I'm trying to build in the plot. 
> 
> I don't like giving you guys a sub-optimal story, so as much as I hate to do it, **I am changing the update schedule to every other week**. I hope you all will understand, and I hope the slowdown is worth the increased complexity and depth this change should allow me to handle properly. Thank you all so much for reading - this is such a crack crossover, and it makes me so happy that you all are enjoying it! ^_^


	18. Bonta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Mais c'est qui ce Remington?"_  
>  _"Un Roublard de la pire espèce."_  
>  -Wakfu S2E8, “Chevalier Justice”

Tony quickly realized that of their little company, he was the only one who didn’t have extensive experience traveling on horseback (or dragoturkey back, whatever). It had only taken them a half hour or so to reach the Bifrost grove, where Ruel had flicked a teardrop-shaped vial into the portal to link it to the portal Evangelyne had said was half a day’s ride from Bonta. They’d filed through, the dragoturkeys apparently more accustomed to this than Tony, and found themselves at the edge of a wide dirt road through a bright sunny countryside. Six hours later, Tony’s back, butt, and legs ached, his headache from his brush with grammar had only gotten worse, and it was all he could do to stay upright on his mount. Steve, meanwhile, was still drinking in the sights, while Natasha, Bruce, and Barton quizzed the natives about the different peoples of this world. Tony tried to listen, but it was taking all his concentration not to fall off his dragoturkey and curl up in pain.

Still, he caught snatches here and there. The World of Twelve was so named because of its twelve gods: Iop, Cra, Enutrof, Sadida, Ecaflip, Eniripsa, Osamodas, Sacrier, Pandawa, Sram, Xelor, and Feca. Most people worshipped, or at least paid lip service to, one god, and the closer they were to that god – the more they embodied everything the god stood for – the more they came to resemble the god's ideal, and the more power the god granted them. There were other groups, too: the Rogues, a loose confederate of thieves and brigands; and a mysterious cult called the Masqueraiders that no one knew much about. Some kind of cataclysm known as Ogrest’s Chaos had wreaked havoc on the world hundreds of years ago, and since then there had been three (“Sorry, four now,” Evangelyne had said) sovereign nations: Bonta, Amakna, Brakmar, and the recent addition, New Sufokia. Plus dozens of smaller states, like the Sadida Kingdom, and independent villages and towns.

The road they were traveling was busy, mostly with wagon-driving farmers who looked like what Tony considered “normal” humans: skin in varying shades of brown and tan, ears rounded or only slightly pointed, hair and eyes of normal colors. But as they drew closer to Bonta, the road got busier, and Tony began to see what Evangelyne meant about resembling the gods. They passed a trio of what appeared to be anthropomorphic pandas pulling wagons loaded with barrels (“Pandawas,” Ruel said. “Probably on their way to sell bamboo milk”), a group of young women with baby-blue hair and broad shields slung over their backs (“Feca,” Evangelyne said), a family whose bright orange hair and whited-out eyes like Tristepin’s marked them as Iops, and even a shepherd with dark blue skin, stubby horns, and a long devil tail herding growling not-quite-sheep (“Osamodas,” Ruel explained).

Finally, much to Tony’s relief, the road crested a hill and they could see a vast city spread out below them, backlit by a gorgeous sunset. Bonta sat on the coast, on a cliff above a short, broad peninsula edged with piers holding a wide variety of colorful ships. Several towers jutted above the houses and smaller buildings, and curving aqueducts ran around the city’s perimeter and above the piers. Despite the setting sun, the road into the city was still full of travellers, so that the Avengers and their native companions had to keep tight control of their mounts to avoid running over anyone.

By the time they descended the hill and passed beneath a massive arched gate into Bonta proper, night had fallen, though the city still bustled with last-minute activity. The natives led the Avengers to a small inn off one of the main streets, where they’d apparently stayed a few times before. Evangelyne spoke with the innkeeper about getting rooms, then turned to Ruel. “Amalia’s not here,” she said. “You’re going to have to pay this time.”

“I’m broke,” Ruel protested. Evangelyne just raised an eyebrow, and he winced. “Sorry, Enutrof reflex.” Evangelyne kept staring at him, her expression one of supreme exasperation. Reluctantly, Ruel pulled out a coin pouch, and, as if every movement hurt, placed a single gold coin on the counter.

The innkeeper sighed. “The rest of it?”

“Er…” Ruel said, and smiled ingratiatingly. “You give discounts for age, don’t you?”

“No,” the innkeeper said flatly.

Tristepin rolled his eyes. “Just _pay_ already, Ruel, we’re all tired.”

Looking even more pained, Ruel pulled out a second coin and laid it beside the first. The innkeeper folded his arms and glared; Evangelyne looked ready to strangle Ruel. Tony facepalmed. Loki had mentioned something about Enutrofs being possessive, but this was ridiculous. Tony’s legs hurt, his head hurt, and he was exhausted; he was _not_ going to sit here and wait while they pried Ruel’s coins out of him one by one. “Okay, Ruel, look,” he snapped. “You put down the cash now, no more bitching, and when this is over I’ll pay you back. With interest.”

Ruel blinked, and Tony could practically see the dollar signs in his eyes. “Twenty percent,” he said.

“Five,” Tony shot back.

“Fifteen.”

“Seven. Final offer.” Tony managed a smirk despite his exhaustion. Ruel had to know that he’d have to pony up the cash one way or another; Tony had the upper hand here.

“Done,” Ruel said, and stuck out a hand for Tony to shake. With the deal sealed, he looked considerably less pained as he finished paying the innkeeper.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Evangelyne murmured to Tony as they headed upstairs to their rooms. He’d fallen behind the rest of the group, his legs protesting both the long ride and the trip up to Loki’s lab. Tomorrow was going to suck. “Ruel would have paid eventually.”

Tony shrugged. “I’m not going to sit here and wait for ‘eventually’. We’ve got a mask to find and a friend to rescue.”

“I know he can be frustrating,” she said, “but he’s an Enutrof, it’s just how they are. And he’s always pulled through for us.”

“Didn’t say otherwise,” Tony said, and tried for a smile. He was too tired for his usual stage razzle-dazzle, but it seemed to be enough.

Evangelyne nodded. “See you in the morning, then.”

“Bright and early,” Tony agreed. She waved, disappearing into the room she was sharing with Tristepin, and Tony staggered into the room he was splitting with Bruce. (Natasha and Barton were sharing, to no one’s surprise, and Steve had taken one for the team and volunteered to bunk with Ruel.) Bruce was already in the room, and he looked like he wanted to ask Tony something, but Tony headed straight for one of the narrow beds. He was fast asleep before he even hit the pillow.

*             *             *

The next morning, Tony only just managed to make it down the stairs without falling on his face; his legs hurt exactly as much as he’d expected, although at least his headache was gone. No one else seemed to have had any trouble, damn the lot of them. They gathered around a big table in the inn’s common area, with breakfast served by the innkeeper, and everyone took a few minutes to load up on food before settling down to make plans.

“Do we even know where to find this Remington Smisse?” Steve asked. “If he’s a professional thief, he’s not going to have a listing in the phone book.”

“Ah, you’d be surprised,” Ruel said. “Rogues like the Smisses are thieves for hire, so they need to be found by clients.”

“Clint and I can work that angle,” Natasha said. “If we can just hire him, it’ll make things simpler.”

“I’ll go with you,” Ruel said. “I’ve got a few contacts around Bonta.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow at Evangelyne, who shrugged; Natasha seemed to take this as an endorsement and nodded.

“All right,” Steve said. “Then the rest of us will do some scouting. See what this tower looks like, what we’re up against.”

“Be careful, everyone,” Evangelyne said. “Ush Galesh probably has spies all over the city. If he gets word of what we’re doing, it’s over for us.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve said. “Let’s get going.”

Tony levered himself out of his chair, groaning under his breath. The only thing that made it better was that he caught Steve and Barton both moving stiffly – apparently they, too, could succumb to saddle soreness, even if Natasha was some kind of automaton and Bruce was… a Hulk. Outside the inn, Natasha, Barton, and Ruel disappeared into the crowded streets immediately, while the rest of the group followed Evangelyne and Tristepin in the direction of Ush Galesh’s tower.

“Hey,” Bruce said to Tony as they walked. Tony had fallen behind the others a little, still working the stiffness from his legs, and Bruce spoke quietly enough that no one but Tony would hear. “Are you okay?”

Tony flashed him a grin. “I’m fine. Just wish someone would design an ergonomic saddle already.”

“Not what I meant,” Bruce said. He glanced at the rest of the group and dropped his voice further. “Loki had you alone yesterday for almost an hour. Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Tony said, rolling his eyes. This was getting really old, everyone assuming that, first, Loki was automatically going to do something awful if they weren’t watching, and second, that Tony couldn’t handle himself if Loki did try something. “He didn’t do anything, I already said that.”

“You looked like hell when you came back,” Bruce said. “And I don’t think I’ve ever seen you be that quiet for that long on the ride here.”

Tony stopped walking and turned to face Bruce directly. “Look,” he said. “I asked Loki a question about magic. He offered to demonstrate. I agreed, because I’m stupid. Turns out when he says something’s dangerous, he’s not kidding. So I had a headache from that. Also I’m not Clint Eastwood, I wasn’t born in a saddle, I was mostly paying attention to not falling off. Okay?”

Bruce raised both hands defensively, looking hurt. “Okay,” he said. “I was just worried.”

Tony sighed. “Sorry. I’m… I guess I’m just sick of everyone assuming Loki’s going to murder us the moment we turn our backs. If we want Thor back, we need to work with him, and we can’t do that if everyone’s treating him like a bomb about to go off.” He ran his hands through his hair. “And… aside from that. I guess I’m kind of weirded out that I’m starting to think Loki might actually be kind of a nice guy? Except for the part where he leveled half of Manhattan. And killed hundreds of people.”

“I broke Harlem,” Bruce said quietly, then looked up and met Tony’s eyes. “You were the first person after that who didn’t treat me like a time bomb.”

“So what you’re saying is, I’m an idiot,” Tony said, and smiled.

Bruce smiled back. “Definitely.”

“Hey!” Tristepin shouted from further along the street, and Tony looked over to see him waving both arms at them. “You guys coming?”

“Yeah,” Tony said, and clapped Bruce on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

*             *             *

Natasha sat alone at a table in a dingy pub, holding a mug of some sort of foul-smelling ale between her hands that she didn’t quite dare to taste. For as exasperating as he was, Ruel had turned out to be surprisingly well-connected, and they’d managed to put out word that if the legendary rogue Remington Smisse was interested, a client would be waiting for him at five PM in the Growling Gobball. That done, Natasha and Clint had sent Ruel back to find the others and then started their own preparations. They’d done this before, and Natasha knew that Clint was tucked safely away on the roof of a neighboring building, where he had a clear line of sight to her table through the pub’s filthy front window.

She’d set up more than an hour early, wanting time to scout the area and get a feel for the other patrons in the pub, as well as to make it more difficult for Smisse to sneak up on her. She was glad she had. Ruel had warned them that Smisse traveled with a black “bow meow” – which after some discussion they’d worked out meant “cat” – that was capable of speech and human-level intelligence. Smisse referred to the cat as his brother, which, given what Loki had said about Ush Galesh turning people into cats, didn’t seem as much of a stretch as it might have otherwise. Sure enough, a big black tomcat had wandered into the pub shortly after Natasha had taken her seat, and had slunk in and out of the shadows for half an hour before disappearing.

Natasha tugged on the edge of the deep green cloak she was wearing, the identifier she’d included in the message to Smisse. Ruel had paid for it with a gleam in his eye after she’d told him to put it on Stark’s tab; she suspected this was going to get rapidly out of hand and hoped Stark could afford it. But for now she just wanted to blend in a little, and have something to fidget with to give the impression of nerves. Here in a city full of strange-looking people in stranger-looking clothes, her SHIELD bodysuit didn’t stand out as much as it would anywhere on Earth, but the cloak still helped her project the image of someone who was nervous and trying not to be noticed.

The pub door opened exactly at five PM. The man who strode in was tall and skeleton-thin, dressed in a ragged, ankle-length black robe and cape. He wore a black Zorro-style mask tied around his head, hiding everything except his narrow black beard, pointed ears, and dark eyes. The upper half of his robe was fitted to his chest and probably armored, while the skirt of the robe was held in place by a wide cloth belt. A pair of holsters hung from the belt, holding twin magenta-and-black pistols, each with a blinking eye on its handle and another pair of eyes to either side of the trigger. An odd double-ended knife was stuck through the front of the belt as well, with curving bone-colored blades and two more blinking eyes set at either end of its magenta grip. A sword as long as the man was tall was slung across his back, the tip of its ivory blade visible beside his ankle, its magenta hilt, set with yet another eye, jutting up over his shoulder. And on his left hand he wore a bright magenta glove, also set with blinking eyes around the arm.

The man strode over to Natasha’s table, clinking with each step like a cowboy in a spaghetti Western. Natasha knew that he was making the noise deliberately, an intimidation tactic; she made herself look uneasy as he swung out the chair opposite her and sat down. The big black tomcat from earlier materialized from the shadows and jumped up onto his shoulder, golden eyes peering at her with interest.

“This looks familiar, don’t you think, Remi?” the cat said. Its voice had a weird yowl to it, but was perfectly understandable. Natasha let her eyes widen, as if surprised by the cat speaking.

“It does,” Remington Smisse said, and smiled widely. Like most people in this world, he had narrow fangs that gave his smile a sinister air. “So, my girl,” he said to Natasha. “You want to hire Remington Smisse?”

“Yes,” Natasha said. She made her voice soft, as if she was trying to hide a nervous waver. It wasn’t hard; the many eyes on Smisse’s weapons were blinking asynchronously, and most of them were fixed on her. She remembered the eye set into the hilt of Tristepin Percidal’s weapon, how he’d said it held a demon inside. If Remington Smisse could control that many demons, he was definitely a force to be reckoned with. “It’s a very difficult and dangerous mission,” Natasha continued, “and I need the best.”

“We’ve heard that before,” the cat said, and half-turned as if to jump back to the floor. “Come on, Remi, I’m getting serious deja vu from this.”

“Easy, Grany,” Smisse answered, without taking his eyes off Natasha. “Let’s at least hear the little miss out, shall we?” Grany made a displeased noise, but settled lower on Smisse’s shoulder and didn’t say anything. Smisse gestured for Natasha to speak. “What’s this mission of yours?”

She hesitated, bit her lip as if she was nervous, then met his eyes. “I want to steal a mask from Ush Galesh’s tower.”

Smisse moved so fast she almost didn’t see it. Abruptly he was standing, both guns drawn and the barrels pointed directly at her head.

“So,” he hissed, a terrifying rage in his eyes and his voice. “He thinks this is funny, does he?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Remington Smisse](http://25.media.tumblr.com/e3cc4cad709948057845ab0338b48721/tumblr_n1l848T66t1rvopnuo1_1280.png), if you're curious. I think I like him for many of the same reasons I like Loki: he somehow manages to be a snarky asshat, a backstabbing jerk, a decent person, and a sympathetic character all at the same time.


	19. Remington Smisse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Tell me what you need."   
> "I need a distraction. And an eyeball."   
> _-The Avengers_

Natasha froze. She could see Smisse’s fingers applying pressure to the triggers, could see that he was half a breath away from pulling them. Before she could say anything, Smisse growled, “He thinks he can keep playing with us, doesn’t he? He thinks we’re _toys_ , that we’re idiots—you even have red hair! Where are the shushus you’re going to offer us?” He was breathing hard, all his calm demeanor vanished behind his sudden rage. On his shoulder, Grany stood with his back arched, claws and fangs bared.

Natasha had no idea what she’d done to provoke their anger. She kept very still, hands visible on the table. She didn’t drop the nervous act, not yet; Clint was listening over her comm as well as watching and he wouldn’t interfere as long as she stayed in character. She knew Clint would skewer Smisse if the thief tried anything, but she also knew that Smisse could shoot her before Clint could shoot him. Smisse was still glaring at her, clearly waiting for her to answer him, so she said carefully, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have any shushus. I’m not trying to pull anything over anyone.”

He barked out a laugh, short and harsh. “Sure you’re not. Red hair, green eyes – you could be her sister. Maybe you are, I heard she had one. Did she trade Grany for you? Is that what she was after?”

“She?” Natasha asked. Behind the Smisse brothers, she could see the other patrons of the pub hastily clearing out, staring at Remington’s weapons and muttering nervously to each other as they scurried out the door.

“The bitch who hired us the first time,” Grany said. “Ush Galesh’s girl.”

Natasha ran through the pieces in her head rapidly. Loki had said that Smisse had broken into Ush Galesh’s tower before, and only barely survived. If an agent of Ush Galesh’s had hired the Smisse brothers in the first place, for whatever reason, and somehow Natasha had managed to look enough like the agent to provoke their rage…

“I don’t work for Ush Galesh,” Natasha said. “And I’m not trying to pull anything. A friend of mine was kidnapped. I need the mask to get him back.” The pub door opened and closed again. Natasha kept her eyes on Smisse’s. “I heard you knew how to get into Galesh’s tower. That’s all.”

They both stared at her for another long minute. Remington’s eyes were narrowed, lips drawn back in a snarl; Grany’s fur stood on end and his yellow eyes glinted menacingly in the pub’s flickering lantern light. Then Remingon snorted and holstered his guns. “I don’t care either way,” he said, and abruptly he sounded tired. “If you’re working for Ush Galesh, tell him to go fuck himself. We’re done dancing to his tune. If you’re not, and you think trying to steal from him is a good idea, you’re an idiot.”

Natasha said nothing. With Grany still on his shoulder, Remington turned to go.

And froze as he came nose-to-nose with the tip of Tristepin’s stubby sword.

“Sit down,” Tristepin said sternly. Beside him, Evangelyne had an arrow drawn and pointed at Remington, and arrayed behind them were Ruel, Stark, Banner, and Steve. Stark’s armor was still in its backpack form on his shoulders and Banner hadn’t Hulked out yet, but Steve had his shield out and they still managed to be intimidating. Natasha couldn’t see Remington’s expression, but his shoulders were tense, and Grany had crouched like he was about to pounce.

Then Remington laughed, bright and sharp, and sketched a shallow bow to Evangelyne, only just avoiding Tristepin’s sword. “Eva, my darling, you look lovely as always.”

Tristepin shifted to put himself further between Evangelyne and Remington, though he was careful to stay out of her line of fire. “Sit. Down,” he ground out. There was something hard and dangerous in Tristepin’s eyes, and for the first time Natasha could believe that he’d been trained by a legendary killer. Eva’s explanation during the ride yesterday of their previous interactions with Remington and Grany Smisse had amounted to, _they tried to kill me. Repeatedly. I returned the favor, but it never quite stuck._ Now, Natasha got the impression that Tristepin was still carrying a massive grudge.

Remington just laughed again, casual and uncaring, and took a broad step to the side so that he could still see the new arrivals, but also didn’t have his back to Natasha any more. Grany yowled unhappily and jumped down to the table, pacing across it and glaring. With a broad smile, Remington said, “So, this pretty bitch is a friend of yours, I take it?”

“Yes,” Evangelyne said flatly. She released the tension on her bow, the glowing arrow fading into nothingness, although Tristepin didn’t sheathe his sword. “I can guarantee that she doesn’t work for Ush Galesh.”

“And you’re on board with her little plan?”

“We need one of the masks of Karail,” Steve said. He was bristling; he still got angry when people were rude to women in general and Natasha in particular. “You’re going to help us get it.”

“Are we?” Remington purred. “Think again, my friend. I’d sooner be trapped in Rushu’s world again.” His eyes narrowed. “There’s _nothing_ you can offer us that would be worth going back to that hell.”

Natasha sighed to herself as the last piece of Loki’s plan clicked in her head. She looked up at Remington and said, “What about making your brother human again?”

Remington went utterly still. On the table, Grany spun around to stare at her, golden cat eyes wide with surprise for just a moment before he launched himself back onto Remington’s shoulder. “Don’t listen to her, Remi,” he hissed. “She’s just—”

“No,” Remington said hoarsely. Moving almost robotically, he tugged a chair out from the table and sat down, dark eyes locked on Natasha’s. “I’m listening.”  

Behind him, Steve raised an eyebrow at Natasha; in her earpiece she heard Clint say, “Wait, what?” then, “Oh,” as he caught on, remembering what Loki had said. _It’s a simple enough transmutation, at least for me._ Natasha just kept looking at Remington and Grany. She'd dropped the nervous act and she could tell they'd noticed, although neither seemed to care in the face of what she’d just said.

“The friend of ours who was kidnapped,” she said. “His brother is a powerful sorcerer. He can change Grany back. If you help us.”

Remington let out a hollow laugh. “We've been to every sorcerer in the world,” he said. “None of them could do anything.”

“Loki isn't from this world,” Natasha answered calmly. “If there's anyone who can help you, it's him.”

“No,” Grany said sharply. He jumped down from Remington's shoulder to the table and glared up at his brother. “It's not worth it, Remi. I'd rather stay a bow meow forever than see you go near Ush Galesh again.”

Remington closed his eyes. Behind his mask he looked very young, very weary. “I have to try, Grany,” he said softly. He opened his eyes again, meeting Natasha's gaze. As suddenly as he'd looked young, he now looked fierce, dangerous. “If you're lying, if your friend can't turn Grany back—”

“—then at the very least,” Steve interrupted, “you'll have got revenge on Ush Galesh by stealing this mask from under his nose.” Remington shot him an annoyed look from the corner of his eye.

“Remi…” Grany said.

Remington rested a hand on Grany's back. “Third time's the charm, eh, bro?”

Grany sighed, ears and tail drooping. “You’re an idiot, Remi.”

“I know,” Remington agreed. Natasha saw the way his fingers tightened in Grany’s fur, the way Grany leaned a little into Remington’s touch. Then Remington straightened, mouth splitting into a wide, fanged grin. “All right, then,” he said, and his voice was suddenly brash, cheerful. “Pull up a chair and let’s get started.”

As the others obeyed, appropriating chairs from nearby tables and jostling each other for space, Remington continued, “I know what my dear Evangelyne can do, as well as you two.” He nodded to Ruel and Tristepin, ignoring Tristepin’s continued glare. “But I don’t know about the rest of you. If you want me to plan a robbery, I need to know what I’m working with.”

Ruel pointed at Natasha, then Steve. “Sram, Feca.” At Banner: “Not much on his own, but he has one hell of a shushu.” He pointed at Stark, opened his mouth, and closed it again. “Er…”

“Genius with nifty toys,” Stark supplied, and flashed one of his trademark humorless smiles.

“And another Cra,” Natasha added. She’d signalled for Clint to come join them while everyone was sitting down, and he managed to walk into the pub right on cue.

Remington’s eyes narrowed for a moment as he realized Clint had been watching them, but he just nodded. “I don’t suppose that kid with the portals is around,” he said to Evangelyne. “His powers would be pretty damn useful.”

“Sorry,” Evangelyne said. “Yugo’s busy.”

“Too bad,” Remington said. He waved a hand absently in the direction of the bar; the bartender hurriedly filled a tankard and brought it over to him. “We’re not going to have much time to plan,” Remington said after the bartender had retreated. “The only real advantage we have is that Ush won’t be expecting us this time. But he has spies all over Bonta, and it’s only a matter of time before he gets word of what you’re up to.”

“We’re ready to move,” Natasha said. “We just need a plan.”

“That, I can give you,” Remington said, and smirked. He dug in a pouch on his belt and produced a battered and torn parchment that was too big to have fit in the pouch, though by now Natasha was accustomed enough to magic not to blink an eye. “There’s really only two ways into the tower, aside from the front door,” he continued, unrolling the parchment. Laid flat on the table, it revealed a smudged but still readable charcoal sketch of Ush Galesh’s tower. Natasha, Clint, and Ruel had only studied it from afar while setting up for their meeting with Remington, but its shape was distinctive: a tall narrow spire with four long, thin balconies jutting out at various heights, widening to a domed base and topped with an elegant saucer-like shape whose wide awning was hung with brightly-colored streamers. The drawing had, however, cut out most of the length of the spire to accommodate a detailed sketch of an underground area that stretched to twice the tower’s diameter.

“It was designed by Leonard Davinch’ti,” Remington said. He didn’t seem to notice the confused look that passed between Steve, Stark, and Banner at the name. “He drew this for us the first time we went in.” Remington pointed at the underground area, which was marked with the words _labyrinth, monstrous rats, bad news!_ “He figured most thieves would come up from the sewers, so most of the tower’s defenses are down here.” His finger moved up to the top, where a band of floor-to-ceiling windows ringed the tower just below the saucer. “We came in from the top on our first try—”

“That was still one of your stupidest ideas, Remi,” Grany grumbled.

“It got us in, didn’t it?” Remington retorted. In a more serious tone, he added, “But after we did it, Ush reinforced the windows so you can’t crash a glider through them any more. I think he’s also got eyes on the hills now, so you’d be dead before you could launch.” He tapped a spot in the middle of the tower, just below the cut line. “The treasure room’s somewhere in the heart of the tower. Ush replaced the shushu door and added some more traps that we tripped our second time through. He’s probably got even more in there now.”

“Traps?” Tristepin asked. The idea seemed to perk him up; he sat forward and studied the diagram with interest.

“Traps,” Remington repeated, “plus guards, hundreds of bow meows, and Ush Galesh. Getting inside the tower is the easy part. Getting to the mask, taking it, and getting back out is the real trick.”

“What kind of guards?” Clint asked. “And are, uh, ‘bow meows’ really a problem?”

Grany flashed him a decidedly pointy smile and flexed a paw to reveal sharp claws. “Want me to demonstrate?”

Clint raised both hands hurriedly. “No, I’m good.”

“There’s your standard guards,” Remington continued, ignoring them, “that he gets just for being one of Bonta’s nobles. He also keeps a few lieutenants around. Lounie – the redheaded bitch – is one of them. She’s a Sacrier. The second time we went in, he also had some Osamodas floozy, but we killed her. I don’t know if he replaced her.” His voice turned grim. “And of course, there’s Ush Galesh himself. He’s more dangerous than all the rest combined.”  

“He’s an Ecaflip, right?” Evangelyne asked.

Remington nodded. “An incredibly powerful one.”

“What can Ecaflips do again?” Natasha asked. “Specifically?”

“They’re gamblers,” Ruel explained. “Luck is their stock in trade. And they’re well-equipped for hand-to-hand combat.” He curled his fingers and made a clawing motion.

“Gring, the Ecaflip who went with us the first time, could also sense traps and invisibility,” Remington added, with a pointed look at Natasha. “So it’s safe to assume that Ush will be able to see through any of your Sram tricks.”

Natasha decided not to point out that she wasn’t really a Sram and couldn’t make herself invisible at will, although she saw Clint waggling his eyebrows at her as if to say, _you should get Fury’s research team on that_. She made a face back.

Steve leaned in closer to Remington’s parchment, squinting at the chalk lines. “So we can’t go in from the top or the bottom. I guess the treasure room wouldn’t have windows—”

“It does, actually,” Remington said. “Ush threw me out of them. Twice. He’s got a whole sitting area where he can jerk off to his piles of gold while he looks over the city he rules.” He shook his head. “But it doesn’t help us; you can’t climb the walls. Gramps made sure that the outer wall is too smooth – I think he had it enchanted. You’d need some damn powerful tools to even make a chip in the stone, and then you’d have to do it over and over, without being noticed by the guards at the tower’s base, or the rest of the city while you’re a giant bug on the wall. It’s a nice thought, since if we could go in the window we could bypass all the traps and guards and probably even Ush, but I spent a year trying to figure out a way and got nowhere.”

“What about flying in?” Stark asked. “If you know which window it is—”

“I told you, we tried that already,” Remington said. “And even if Ush hadn’t reinforced his windows, _and_ even if I was sure which one it was from the outside, a glider isn’t precise enough to hit one window.”

“We got incredibly lucky the first time, and we were aiming for a freaking _wall_ of windows,” Grany added.

“Okay,” Stark said. “Then let’s get more precise.” He pulled his phone out of a pocket and set it on the table. A tap on the screen and the phone began projecting a holographic image of Ush Galesh’s tower, in perfect 3D miniature. Both Smisse brothers’ eyes widened, and Stark grinned. “Like I said. Nifty toys.” To the phone, he said, “Jarvis, analytics. Let’s see if we can pinpoint which window is the treasure room.”

Remington had reached a hand out to the holo, fingers hovering just over the lines as if afraid to touch them. Stark waved him on. “Go ahead, you can manipulate it.”

“Fascinating,” Remington murmured. He fiddled with the image while Stark explained how to zoom in and out. Natasha couldn’t help but be impressed; apparently their reconnaissance had gone well. Stark’s graphic had captured the market around the base of the tower, as well as detail like the flowing golden lines etched into the tower’s sides and even the angle of sunlight at different times. Stark peppered Remington and Grany with questions about their previous forays into the tower, firing off instructions to Jarvis to narrow down the possible locations of the treasure room based off their answers. After a few minutes, they lit on a set of three arched windows, the center one wide and hinged to open, the outer two narrow and decorative, about halfway up the tower.

“This is fancy and all,” Remington said as they studied the holo, “but it still doesn’t solve the problem of getting to those windows.”

“Well,” Stark said, “I can fly right to it, no problem. And if the glass is still weak enough that Ush Galesh could throw you through it, then I can break it. But I can only carry three people with me.”

“You’re serious about being able to fly to it,” Remington said. Stark nodded, and Remington grinned, then turned to Ruel. “Old man, we’re going to need to borrow that haven bag of yours.”

“My—” Ruel started, eyes going wide as he tried to shove his shoulder bag out of sight behind him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I don’t have a haven bag—”

Remington rolled his eyes, and Evangelyne clapped a hand to her forehead. Tristepin frowned, his annoyance with Remington momentarily replaced by confusion. “Yes you do,” he said to Ruel. “You’re wearing it right now.”

Stark and Clint both snickered as Ruel heaved a put-upon sigh. “Thank you, Pinpin,” he muttered, then looked over at Remington. “What do you want with it?”

“Think about it, Gramps,” Remington smirked. “We’re going to break into Ush Galesh’s tower.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m a little shy about saying this, but the awesome Lark_Windflight created a TV Tropes page for the “A Bridge Once Broken” series! [You can take a look here.](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/FanFic/Abridgeoncebroken)
> 
> Lark also asked me to pass along the following message to you guys: 
> 
> _Could you ask if any readers would be willing to give me a hand/mit/paw/claw/wing/appropriate appendage here/flipper? I would very much appreciate it! What I really need help with is indexing and crosswiking it. They can help with tropes of course, Its just that putting in indexes is proving....frustrating, to say the least._
> 
> So go check out Lark’s amazing work, and if you want, lend a hand!


	20. The Queen and the Scientist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How does it feel to be a genius?”  
> “Well, I really wouldn’t know, now would I?”  
> “What do you mean? All this came from you.”  
> - _The Avengers_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late! I'd blame school, but really this time it was because the last week or so was Sanity Has Houseguests Week, and while having all your friends visiting for a week is great, it's not really condusive to getting writing done. I should be back on schedule now. *knock on wood*

Even three years later, there was something oddly familiar about Stark Tower. Its arc reactor heart, so similar to, and yet so different from, an Eliacube, made it a beacon of magic in the darkness of the places between worlds – though Stark himself was likely oblivious to the fact. But the brilliant glow meant it was easy for Loki to find it, as he stepped through a hole in reality to emerge in one of the tower’s middle levels.

It was the same room he’d arrived in during the Infinity War, the first time he’d paid the Lady Pepper a visit. It looked much the same, too: a large space subdivided into smaller spaces by modular, half-height cloth walls, and filled with desks at which men and women hunched over glowing screens. Loki heard gasps and murmurs of surprise pass among the mortals as they spotted him, and could not help a faint, smug smile. He knew that Odin had had Loki’s name scrubbed from Midgard’s records of the attack on New York, but at least some of these people had likely been there and seen him in person.

So he allowed himself to admire the boldness of the woman who stood up from her desk while the others cowered and traded fearful glances with each other. She walked up to him, steady in her spike-heeled shoes and with her chin held high. “Can I help you?” she asked, and though he saw her swallow, her voice was steady.

Loki inclined his head. “I must speak with the Lady Pepper Potts. The matter is urgent.”

“Ah… okay,” the woman said. “I’ll... see if I can get ahold of her.” She glanced around nervously, then added, “There’s, uh, a room, you can wait in here…” Loki followed her through the maze of cloth walls to where a door opened into some kind of private office or meeting room. The woman waved him inside, then dipped her head, the motion somewhere between a servant’s bow and an attempt to mimic Loki’s own gesture. She left quickly, closing the door behind her.

Loki couldn’t quite bring himself to sit down at the table which dominated the center of the room, but instead paced restlessly back and forth in the space at the far end, where a speaker would stand to address those seated at the table. He had thought he could handle coming here, that this tower would be safe enough, but the memories rose thick and sudden: watching Thor from the safe distance of the Lady Pepper’s screen; snarling at him, half truth and half lie; the vicious satisfaction Loki had felt at the expression on Thor’s face when Loki told him his friends were dead. Madness had made his anger sweet, but now, with Thor gone, Loki felt only a dull aching grief that he had once taken such pleasure in tearing open his brother’s heart.

So he was glad when, before too much time had passed, a knock came at the door. A courtesy only; the Lady Pepper did not wait for him to answer, and entered the room with a composed brusqueness that reminded him of Frigga. Stark truly did not know what a treasure he’d won in such a woman.

The boy trailing behind her was a surprise. Golden-haired and gawky-thin, barely old enough to show the beginnings of a beard, he was dressed in the livery of the servants of Asgard’s palace. His shoulders were hunched nervously, and he couldn’t seem to bring himself to lift his eyes enough to look at Loki.

“Hello,” Lady Pepper said, drawing Loki’s attention from the serving boy. “Mister… I’m sorry, I don’t know what I should call you now.”

“Loki Laufeyson will suffice,” Loki answered. He bowed to her; she was a queen, and he a guest in her palace, after all.

She was dressed in Midgard’s ridiculously impractical court wear: a tailored, navy blue jacket and matching knee-length skirt, a white blouse, and slim pointed shoes with tall spiked heels. Her hair was done in a severe bun, emphasizing her no-nonsense expression, and she carried a slim black tablet under her arm. Loki could see her taking in the changes to his own appearance, though he had no idea how much, if anything, she knew about his current circumstances. Her face gave away nothing, but her voice was neutral, businesslike without being cold. “All right,” she said. “Then, Mister Laufeyson, how can I help you?”

“I must speak with Thor’s woman, the scientist Jane Foster,” he said. “It’s quite urgent. Can you direct me to her?”

“She’s not here,” Lady Pepper answered.

There was a hint of defensiveness to her words, of protectiveness, and Loki allowed himself a faint smile. “If I thought she was,” he said, “I would have requested an audience with her instead.”

Lady Pepper inclined her head, acknowledging the point. “Is this about Thor?” she asked. He could tell she was watching for any reaction from him, making sure that she was not about to surprise him. In truth, he was grateful that he wouldn’t have to explain, that she already knew – likely the servant’s reason for being there. She continued carefully, “Mister Stark said he was kidnapped.”

Her words stabbed like knives into his heart, and he had to look away even as he cursed himself for the weakness. _Kidnapped_ was such a light word, nothing at all like _gone_ , like— No. “Yes,” he said. He managed to keep his voice steady, although he doubted she’d missed how soft it had become. “I need Miss Foster’s help to find the ones who took him.”

She studied him for a moment in silence, then finally asked, “Why didn’t Mister Stark come? He knows where Ms. Foster is, and how to reach her.”

That question, at least, Loki was prepared for. “The Man of Iron is currently in Bonta with his shield companions, attempting high larceny. I don’t expect them back for days yet, and I would much prefer not to waste that time.”

“High larceny?” Lady Pepper repeated, not bothering to hide her surprise. Nor her amusement, and Loki could not help a smile of his own as he thought about Midgard’s finest heroes attempting one of the most dangerous crimes in Bonta. Before he could respond, she said, “—Never mind. All right. Ms. Foster is in London right now. I can have a plane fly her back here – she was already talking about making the trip when she found out about Thor – but it’ll take eight or nine hours at least—”

Loki shook his head. Why did Midgard have to be so absurdly _huge_? “I can get there much faster,” he said, “if you can provide a map.”

“I’m not sure we have maps for teleportation, or whatever it is you do,” she said dryly, but she was already looking down at her tablet, fingers tapping along its surface. After a moment, an image appeared over the table, a holographic projection of the globe of Midgard. Loki was familiar enough with the shape of it, both from his lessons as a boy and from the time spent planning the Chitauri invasion three years ago. “We’re here,” Lady Pepper continued, and a bright marker lit up over the eastern coast of one land mass. “Ms. Foster is in London, here.” Another marker, this one on an island on the opposite side of an ocean. She gestured on the tablet and the image zoomed in on the second marker until it showed a city street, drab with rain and filled with people. The marker blinked over the doorway of an unassuming building whose sign read only, “ISRC”. “It’s a little after three PM there now,” Lady Pepper said. “Ms. Foster will probably still be in her lab. She wanted to collect everything she’d need to work on her prototype once she got here. Mister Stark has it mostly assembled, it just needs some final touches.”

Loki nodded absently, still studying the map, committing the direction and location to memory. He wasn’t nearly as familiar with the unlabled paths that cut across Midgard as he was with those of Asgard, but he had the Eliacube with him, and he thought he could get there reasonably quickly. Then her words caught up to him. “Her device is here?” he asked. “And rebuilt already?”

“Yes,” Lady Pepper said. “She sent Mister Stark the blueprints last week. We have better development resources here, and Tony can prototype faster in his private labs than she can in the government ones.”

“Then if I may ask another favor,” Loki said, “could you arrange a room for us to work in?”

“Sure,” she said. “What do you need?”

“The device, of course, and an astrogyre, an athame – silver if possible, pure crypt dust, darkened chalk, shavings of sky metal—”

Lady Pepper held up her hands to cut him off. “I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I have absolutely no idea what you're saying.”

Loki ran over the list in his head. He remembered having this problem while preparing for the Chitauri invasion; while Midgard had the tools he needed to work his spells, its people didn't have names for those tools, didn't have the knowledge necessary to comprehend their import. He’d planned to just take Jane and build the device back in his own laboratory, but if it was already mostly built, and with Earth materials, it would be best to finish the job here. He could return to the World of Twelve to retrieve his own equipment, but that would take additional time, and anyway Jahanna and Yugo needed most of it to prepare their runic circle—

“My lord,” a voice spoke up, soft and wavering. “If it please my lord, I know these things.”

Loki looked in surprise to where the serving boy stood off to one side of the room. He'd been quiet and unobtrusive until then, as a servant should be, and Loki had entirely forgotten he was there. But now the boy had lifted his head, though he was still careful to avoid Loki's eyes. For the first time, Loki noticed that the boy wore a band of Loki's own green around his upper arm. It wasn't uncommon for servants in the palace to wear nobles' colors so, but it was meant to indicate that a noble had taken a fancy to a particular servant and had claimed them for their own. Loki hadn't ever claimed servants – he knew too well what they whispered about him in their hidden passages – and he couldn't imagine why this boy would willingly wear the colors of Asgard's unloved ex-prince. “You know magic?” he asked.

“I am studying, my lord,” the boy said. He touched the band around his arm, then flinched and dropped his hand. “Those components are required for far-casting an effect.”

Far-casting was indeed what Loki was planning, and it said something about the boy’s skill that he could figure that out just from a partial component list. “Do you know everything else that’s required?” Loki said.

“Yes, my lord,” the boy said, and rattled off the full list, all in one breath as if reciting a lesson.

“Good,” Loki said, and meant it. The boy dared a look at his face for just an instant before dropping his eyes to the floor again; it was not unlike how Yugo or Chibi looked to Loki for approval, and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it coming from an Aesir serving boy training in magic. So he said only, “Then please assist Lady Pepper in obtaining the full set.”

“Yes, my lord,” the boy said.

Loki looked over at Lady Pepper. “Is that acceptable?”

“Works for me,” she answered. “I’ll let Ms. Foster know you’re coming.”

“My thanks,” Loki said. He stepped back from the table, calling the Eliacube to his hands and a portal into existence behind him. “I will return shortly.”

*             *             *

It was not difficult to find Jane Foster. Lady Pepper’s map had been accurate enough that Loki was able to send himself almost to the building’s front door, after some careful detours through the hidden paths of Yggdrasil to ensure he didn’t drop himself in the middle of the ocean along the way. He already suspected this encounter was going to go badly; he didn’t need to make it worse by showing up soaked to the skin and dripping.

Unlike the projected map, the street was mostly empty of people when he arrived. He had disguised his leathers under an illusion of a suit of Midgardian court clothes, made of fine black wool and tailored to emphasize his height. But the illusion was hardly needed: the sky was gray and threatening rain, and the few people who were there ignored him, intent on beating the rain to their destinations. The door under the “ISRC” sign was locked, not with a key but with a panel blinking dull red. Loki disabled it with a brush of magic against its inner workings, and headed inside. He remembered enough of the sense of Jane’s writings to invoke a vague locating spell; it pointed him to a stairwell and up. Along the way, he passed men and women in white coats who stopped their work and stared upon seeing him, but he ignored them, and none of them quite dared to approach him.

He found Jane Foster in a claustrophobically-crowded room on the building’s third floor. Like the other scientists in the building, she wore a white coat, but was dressed in peasant’s clothes beneath it, with her hair in messy tangles around her shoulders. She was rushing between tables, grabbing papers and muttering half under her breath and half at her assistant, the airheaded brunette Loki only vaguely remembered from New Mexico. The assistant noticed Loki first, blanching and falling back a step as he entered the room. “Um. Jane?” she said. Jane didn’t seem to hear, her attention on a small device balanced precariously on a stack of papers she held in one arm. Loki waited, all innocent patience, and the assistant repeated, louder, “ _Jane_.”

Jane whirled on her. “ _What?_ ”

The assistant gestured with her chin in Loki’s direction. She still hadn’t taken her eyes off him, and the uneasy expression on her face finally caught Jane’s attention.

Jane turned and froze, staring at Loki, eyes wide and mouth half-open. Then she dropped her armful of papers into her assistant’s hands and stalked over to Loki, her expression furious. “ _You!_ ” she snarled.

He saw the slap coming probably before she realized she was doing it, and turned his head with the blow. He needed her intact – it wouldn’t do for her to break her hand hitting him – and anyway, if he was honest with himself, he rather deserved it after what he’d done to her during the Infinity War. Still, he couldn’t resist flashing a dangerous smile, all teeth and amused malice, and waiting as it dawned on her that neither Thor nor any of the mortal warriors were around to protect her, should he choose to retaliate.

To her credit, though, Jane only stepped back, tossing her hair to hide a nervous swallow. “I’ve wanted to do that for three years,” she said, then added, “Pepper said you were coming. Are you actually going to help Thor?”

“As opposed to…?” he said. He didn’t let go of the dark smile, the careless ease of his posture. He needed her cooperation, and letting her know the truth would not likely get him very far.

“You’ve tried to kill him a few times,” she shot back. “I think it’s a fair question.”

He inclined his head, ceding the point. “Yes, I’m going to help Thor.”

“And you need _my_ help to do it. My Einstein-Rosen bridge generator.”

“Yes,” he said.

“Why?” she demanded. “Thor said you rebuilt the Bifrost overnight after the war. If you need another one, why not build it yourself?”

He let his smile widen. “I don’t think you’ll like the answer.”

Jane folded her arms. “Try me.”

“I need it,” Loki said, and smirked, “because the Zaap Jahanna and I built is far too advanced to do what I require, and we no longer have records of how to build such primitive devices as yours.”

Jane opened her mouth and closed it again, clearly flummoxed. Behind her, her assistant shrugged. “He has a point,” she said to Jane. “They’re super-advanced space aliens who go to other planets for vacation. We haven’t even managed to get back to the moon.”

Jane sighed. “I don’t know if I should be insulted or honored,” she grumbled.

“Honored,” Loki told her. “I need to take the device back to the Sadida Kingdom. If you help me, you will join your realm’s band of defenders as one of the only mortals to set foot on another world.”

_That_ got her attention. Her breath caught, and she stared at him, arms crossed, trying and failing to look down her nose at him while she considered. It was easy enough to see what had drawn Thor to her: like him, she was brash and impulsive, arrogant and unreasonably brave, wholly unlike the simpering noble girls who filled the halls of the palace and made as if to faint if Thor so much as smiled at them.

And she was a woman, so Thor didn’t have to be ashamed that she studied the arcane arts.

Loki swallowed back the sudden sharp flash of jealousy. It was childish and stupid, and the last thing Thor would want him to be thinking about. He needed to work with Jane, to make the Mechasms regret ever laying hands on Thor. So he kept his expression under control, the smirk replaced with the wide-eyed earnestness that had won him many an argument. Behind Jane, the assistant watched them nervously, though he could tell by the way her expression had softened a little that he’d convinced her, at least.

Finally Jane said, “All right, fine. I’ll help you.”

“Excellent,” Loki said. “Have you everything you need? Time is of the essence.”

She looked around. “Uh…”

The assistant hurriedly dumped her armload of papers and gadgets into a bag that sat on the table, and shoved it at Jane. “Good luck rescuing your space boyfriend,” she said. “Take pictures of any other worlds you get to visit, okay?”

“Right,” Jane said. She gave the other woman a quick, one-armed hug. “Make sure nothing blows up while I’m gone, okay?”

“It’ll be fine,” the assistant said, and smiled.

Jane smiled back, then turned to Loki, settling her bag on her shoulder. “Okay, so...”

He held out an arm. “I suggest you hold on,” he warned her. He gave her just enough time to get a grip on his elbow, then swirled reality away to carry them back to Stark Tower.


	21. Ush Galesh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Sois patient, ça arrivera bien assez tôt.”_  
>  Wakfu S2E08, “Chevalier Justice”

For a city that didn’t have electricity, Bonta had a surprisingly bright and active nightlife. Merchants selling from markets lit by torches and lanterns and occasional glowing balls of magic, people still bustling around taking care of business despite the late hour, travelers straggling through the gates and looking for inns, and fishermen just setting out in their ships for the predawn catch, all created a background bustle not unlike some of New York’s smaller boroughs.

And Tony was acutely aware that should even one of all those people look up and spot him in the thirty seconds he was flying over their heads, the gig would be up.

“You’re stalling, metal man,” Remington said at his shoulder, and Tony tried not to jump. They were standing on the rooftop patio of a high-class hotel which Remington had chosen as the best starting point for their mission, Tony in the Iron Man suit and Remington still wearing his voluminous black cape and robes. Most of the many shushu eyes on his equipment were openly staring at Tony’s suit, and Tony thought he’d heard a few of them muttering to each other. Which was creepy as fuck and now he was trying hard to pretend they were just AIs built by someone with a Cthulu fixation.

“I’m studying,” he answered Remington. “You don’t want me to miscalculate and splatter us like bugs all over Ush Galesh’s wall, do you?”

Remington just snorted and went back to looking across the city at the tower that was their target. The lanterns hanging from its balconies shone bright against the starry sky, though the balconies themselves were empty of people. Which probably just meant that any guards were inside, or hidden, but hey, at this point Tony’d take what he could get. He shifted the strap of Ruel’s bag where it hung over his shoulder. The Iron Man suit was still charred and scuffed from their fight with Adamaï and the natives, but it was all cosmetic damage, and he couldn’t even feel the weight of the bag on his shoulder. It was way lighter than it should have been anyway, considering what was inside, but Tony had given up questioning things until after they had Thor back, when he could sit Loki down and have a very long discussion about some of this magic stuff.

Remington slapped his hands on the railing abruptly. “Now _I’m_ stalling,” he said. “Let’s go. This isn’t going to get any easier the longer we wait.”

“What, you don’t think our guy Ush will be so intimidated by us standing here glaring at him that he’ll just hand over the mask?” Tony said.

That got an uproarious laugh, not just from Remington but from all his various shushus as well, which was a little insulting because Tony hadn’t meant it to be _that_ funny. When the chorus had died down, Remington said, “I’d love to see the day that Ecaflip scum is intimidated by _anything_.” He shook his head. “But if we do it right, we won’t see him at all tonight.”

_Fly in fast, smash the window, grab the mask, and get out before Ush has a chance to react_. That was the plan Remington had laid out a few hours ago in the tavern; all the rest was just insurance in case it wasn’t that simple. It probably wouldn’t be that simple, but they could hope.

Tony turned his back to Remington. “All aboard,” he said, as Remington looped a makeshift rope carry harness into place around himself and Tony, then hooked his arms around Tony’s neck. “Please keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times. Due to the short duration of this flight, we will not be serving an in-flight meal.” Tony flipped his faceplate down. “We’ve received clearance from Air Traffic Control. Prepare for takeoff in five, four, three, two, one.”

With that, he hit the thrusters hard, blasting off the roof and across the city toward Ush Galesh’s tower at nearly a hundred miles an hour. Remington clung to him, face buried against the metal of the suit, although at these speeds it was mostly the harness keeping him attached. Trajectory and speed calculations flashed across Tony’s HUD, but he was trusting Jarvis on this one and the AI didn’t disappoint: in a matter of seconds, they were at the window they hoped opened into Ush Galesh’s vault. Tony shattered the glass with his hand blasters without slowing, then they were through the window and in.

He pulled up and hovered just over the floor, staring around the room in awe. They’d got it right – and Remington hadn’t been kidding about this place being a treasure room. It looked like something out of a Scrooge McDuck cartoon: mounds of golden coins on the floor and on shelves climbing up to the vaulted ceiling; chests of wood and metal overflowing with more coins and gems; racks of weapons and armor that ranged from jewel-encrusted showpieces to razor-sharp functional items.

The center of the floor was clear, a wide path that ran from the windowed seating nook they’d landed in, all the way to a tall door at the far end of the room. Remington detached the carry harness and went straight down the open path toward a gold-trimmed pedestal that sat off to one side near the door. _We’re going to hope that the mask in the treasure room is the one you want_ , he’d said back at the pub. _If it’s not, then things are going to be a lot more complicated._

Tony shifted to put his back to the wall where the seating nook curved out of the main room, trying to watch both the window and the far door at the same time. Even so, he almost missed the sleek black cat that slipped out from among a group of chests and darted across the floor toward Remington. He would have dismissed it – it was just a cat – but then he remembered what Grany had said about this world’s cats being dangerous. And then, just as the cat bunched its hindquarters, preparing to spring at Remington, Tony saw its mouth spread in a decidedly malicious – and intelligent – smile.

“Look out!” Tony shouted.

Remington dropped flat without hesitating, the cat missing him by inches. It landed lightly on the carpet and turned back to face him even as Remington rolled to his feet, guns drawn. “Ush,” Remington ground out.

The cat smiled. “Remington,” it answered pleasantly. “You didn’t honestly think I wouldn’t watch you for the rest of your life, did you?”

“A guy can hope,” Remington spat.

Tony swallowed. The cat was watching Remington, apparently unconcerned with Tony just now. Which was fine with him. He let Ruel’s bag slip from his shoulder to the ground, half hidden by the plush benches of the seating nook, and took a careful step forward.

“Stark?” Steve’s voice came over the earpiece. “You need us?”

“Not yet,” Tony answered quietly. “I’ll let you know.”

“Where’s your brother?” the cat was asking Remington. “Was he too afraid to face me a third time? Or perhaps you’d hoped to defeat me on your own, so you could have all the glory for yourself—”

“Shut. _UP_!” Remington shouted, and fired both guns. They made an odd, high-pitched _whump_ sound, like a cross between laser blasts and air cannons, and shot balls of bright pink energy toward the cat.

But it just leaped lightly aside, pivoting a little so that it could look at Tony, too. Tony stopped walking, keeping his hands open at his sides, trying to look nonthreatening. “So you’re the famous Ush Galesh?” he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he added to Remington, “You could’ve warned me that he’s _actually_ a cat.”

“You didn’t ask,” Remington shot back.

“Charming,” Ush murmured. “It seems you’re not even trying any more, Mister Remington. At least if you’d brought your brother instead of this oaf of a Xelor, we could chat about old times.”

“We’re not here to _chat_ ,” Remington said.

The cat laughed. “Ah, yes,” it said. “Then let’s get on with it, shall we?”

Its shoulders bunched oddly, and Remington backed up a step as if he knew what was coming next. The cat’s body _twisted_ suddenly, bones cracking and popping, muscles making ugly snapping noises, and then between one breath and the next it stood up straight, no longer an ordinary-looking cat, but a tall, muscular felinoid man. He was still covered in black fur, though he now wore showy golden robes that left most of his chest bare. His fingers and toes were tipped with sharp-looking claws, and he had cat ears, a long tail, and slit-pupiled yellow eyes.

Ush Galesh met Tony’s eyes through the mask and smiled. “Welcome to my home, Xelor,” he purred.

“Thanks,” Tony said. “Gorgeous place. Love the decor. Must be nice, having all your money in one spot, mine’s all tied up in ones and zeros in digital exchanges and I’ve always wanted to do the piles of gold thing.”

“This is hardly all my wealth,” Ush answered dryly. “But it’s a convenient lure for thieves.” He spun suddenly, one leg lashing out in a kick to knock the knife from Remington’s hand where he’d been trying to slip around behind Ush. “I should know by now,” Ush continued in the same tone to Remington, “not to get my hopes up. Despite your reputation, you consistently fail to meet my expectations.”

“Because you’re expecting the wrong thing, you pile of Trool shit,” Remington snarled. But he was backing away, too, while Ush Galesh stalked forward like a panther.

“Stark,” Steve said sharply in the earpiece.

“Not yet, Cap,” Tony snapped back. “Hold your horses.” He lifted a hand to fire at Ush and get his attention off Remington, but out of nowhere a blood-red cord snaked around his wrist and yanked him sideways. He staggered, reflexes kicking in and he grabbed the cord and yanked back – or tried to, but it unwound itself from his wrist, slithering snakelike between his fingers and backward through the air like it was being drawn in.

Tony followed its path to where a woman was just stepping out from the shadow of a pillar, wearing a green hooded robe and a grim smile. She had to be Ush Galesh’s lieutenant Lounie, whose sister Remington had thought Natasha was back in the pub: she had the same red hair, the same green eyes, and if they couldn’t quite pass as twins, they could certainly pass for sisters. The red cord had wrapped itself flat around her hands and arms where she’d pushed back the sleeves of her robe. It looked unsettlingly like she’d dipped her hands in blood.

“Ah-ah-ah,” she said. “I can’t let you do that.”

“Yeah, about that,” Tony said. The suit’s HUD told him that Remington had made another move for Ush, drawing his guns again and firing to cover his roll across the floor toward his knife, while Tony was distracted. “Normally I wouldn’t mind being singled out by such a lovely lady,” Tony continued, “but my CEO keeps insisting on business before pleasure and I’d hate to disappoint her.” He fired a shoulder missile at Lounie, and at the same time launched himself toward Remington and Ush—

—only to run face-first into a glowing wall that appeared directly in front of him. He bounced back enough to see that it was a semi-transparent clock face – _what the fuck?_ – then it vanished and another figure floated into view, and Tony suddenly understood why everyone kept calling him a Xelor. The figure – she? it had vaguely feminine curves – was wound like a mummy from head to toe in strips of blue cloth, over which she wore golden armor like the Iron Man suit except with a distinctly steampunk vibe, clockwork and gears everywhere. Her face was hidden behind a gold mask like Tony’s own, with round white eyes outlined with stylized gears, and she was floating a few feet off the ground, her body held in a rigidly fixed pose. Most importantly, though, she was holding a sword shaped like a clock hand, pointed right at Tony’s neck.

Tony blasted sideways, just barely missing the sword as she swung, only to be tripped up by Lounie’s red cord lashing around his ankle. He kicked free and fired the hand blaster at Lounie to get her to back off, and at the same time released his shoulder Jerichoes toward the Xelor. But an instant before the mini-missiles exploded, there was a noise like a burst of static and the Xelor vanished. Tony’s alarms flashed and he dove forward, the HUD telling him that the Xelor had reappeared behind him, sword swinging. But his lunge put him right in line with Lounie’s red cord, and it wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his sides as she used his own momentum to swing him straight into a pillar.

Tony hit the ground, staying on his feet only thanks to the suit’s balance control, and swayed, trying to clear his head. He could hear his pulse pounding in his ears, _tick-tock_ , and wait, since when had his pulse sounded like a clock? Across the room, Remington and Ush were still going at it, but it was obvious even from Tony’s quick glance that Ush was just toying with Remington, clearly enjoying himself like, well, a cat with a mouse. Tony needed to get over there, to help him, but with another static crackle the Xelor appeared in front of him, and Lounie stepped into his peripheral vision, fists raised and blood-red cords waving around her like tentacles. Tony raised an arm to fire at her again, but the cords snapped out, lightning-fast, lashing around his arm. Before he could do anything, try to break free, she reeled him in like a fish on a line – straight into her fist.

The punch hit him in the neck where the armor was weakest and Tony choked and gagged even as he went flying across the room. He skidded to a stop in a pile of gold, and tried to get up, to move, to _anything_ , but with a static snap the Xelor appeared above him and swung her sword. The blow clipped Tony’s jaw hard enough to spin him around where he lay in the gold, and he landed dazed on his side. He could see Ush Galesh holding Remington up by the throat while Remington clawed frantically at Ush’s arm; could see when Ush dropped him and kicked him in the stomach; could see Remington curl in pain and cough blood.

“You’ll never win,” Ush said flatly. “You are mortal. Weak. Nothing but a parasite leeching from your superiors, doomed to forever skulk in the shadows—”

Remington pushed himself up enough to spit blood in Ush’s face. “I’ll kill you,” he hissed between bloody teeth. “If it’s the last thing I ever do, I will _kill you_.”

Ush Galesh laughed. “Then you have already failed.” He looked over his shoulder at the Xelor, who still hovered over Tony with her sword at his eye. “Finish them.”

“ _Stark_!” Steve’s voice shouted over the comm.

Tony looked up at the Xelor as she drew back her sword to run him through the eye socket. “Yeah, Cap. _Now._ ”


	22. Heroes and Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll hunt the monsters down and slay them all! Just as you did.”   
> _-Thor_

For a bad minute Loki thought Jane was going to throw up when they emerged from the between-spaces into Stark Tower, but though she staggered a bit, clinging to his arm for balance, she looked up at him with a huge grin.

“That was _incredible_ ,” she said breathlessly. “We _have_ to do it again.”

Loki rolled his eyes and sighed. “Perhaps after we finish the device…?” he said, and she winced, clearly remembering the reason for this whole exercise. In truth, though, he was glad that she had taken the trip so well. The hidden paths within Midgard were not so dark or terrible as those which ran between the realms, but it had still been somewhat of a risk to take a mortal woman through them, whose mind could have been damaged by looking in the wrong direction at the wrong time. A risk he was willing to take to save the hours any other method would have cost, but a risk nonetheless. Jane Foster, it seemed, was stronger than he’d believed.

He’d brought them into the same room from which he’d left, and the Lady Pepper sat primly at the table, tapping on her little slate. She finished whatever she was doing and smiled as she stood to greet Jane warmly. Loki hung back while they exchanged pleasantries, trying not to look too impatient; finally Lady Pepper said, “The lab’s ready for you, although Ragnvaldr is still out with Happy tracking down the last of the… components you requested.”

“Thank you,” Loki said, and motioned for her to lead the way.

She took them down through the building, through three different elevators and enough security doors that Loki lost count, until they were well below ground level. Stark’s lab turned out to be a cluttered, low-ceilinged cement box littered with detritus from his various projects, although a space had been cleared in the center of the room around the skeleton of Jane’s Bifrost device. Jane went straight to it, with a look on her face that Loki recognized: she was lost to the rest of them, her world composed entirely of her device.

Loki hung back near the room’s entrance with the Lady Pepper. “I appreciate your assistance, my lady,” he said softly. “If there is aught I can do to repay you…”

“Keep Tony safe,” she answered, with a little smile that said she knew just how difficult that could be, “and get Thor back alive. We’re pretty fond of your brother.”

Loki put on a smile of his own to hide the ache in his chest. Her price was too high, already long since spent, but he could not admit that to her, not when he still needed her help. He should have said something, a witty remark to divert her attention from the matter, to keep hidden what ought be, but his throat had gone tight and he didn’t think he could speak without giving himself away.

He was infinitely grateful that Jane called him over to help her then, and he quickly lost himself in the work of finishing her device, drowning out the darkness in his heart.

*             *             *

The servant boy Ragnvaldr arrived an hour or two later, loaded down with bags and boxes and shepherded by a large, round-faced man carrying a tray with a pitcher and several glasses. “This is everything, my lord,” Ragnvaldr said. “I’m sorry it took so long—”

Loki waved a hand absently. He had been sketching the appropriate symbols around the base of the machine while Jane tried not to step on him, and his head was filled with magical formulae. “Set them out,” he said.

“Yes, my lord,” the boy said, and hurriedly got to work.

Loki finished the last of the symbols and sat back on his heels. His neck ached and his eyes were sore from staring; he blinked rapidly a few times and scrubbed an arm across his forehead. Across the room, Ragnvaldr’s escort spoke quietly with the Lady Pepper, who had stayed to watch and, occasionally, provide an extra pair of hands when asked. After a moment she appeared to dismiss the man; he left reluctantly, with more than a few suspicious and pointed glares in Loki’s direction. Loki ignored him, mentally mapping out the next steps of the device’s preparation. Now that Ragnvaldr was back with the magical components, he could—

“Take a break,” the Lady Pepper called. “Both of you. Happy brought down something to drink.”

“In a sec,” Jane said. She was elbow-deep in the device’s guts, a protective mask over her eyes and sparks flying around her face. Loki left her to it and got to his feet; he had to wait for the boy anyway.

He didn’t recognize the drinks – some too-sweet Midgardian concoction – but they were cold and he was thirsty, and he had to stop himself gulping one like a footsoldier at the feast table. The Lady Pepper wore that small knowing smile again, and he couldn’t help but wonder how many times she’d had to ensure Stark was fed and watered while he worked on some project or other. Yugo did much the same for Loki, since Jahanna was as like to get wrapped up in the work as Loki was, and Yugo had been raised a cook’s son and hated to see anyone miss a meal. When they were young, though, it had always been Thor who’d brought food for Loki, sitting shoulder to shoulder with him while he ate, patiently nodding as Loki talked through whatever problem he was stuck on. But remembering that, remembering those peaceful moments with his brother, was a knife in Loki’s heart. He pushed the memories away sharply, focusing on the cold glass in his hands, the cloying sweetness of the drink in his throat.

“He idolizes you, you know,” Lady Pepper said suddenly, and Loki blinked, his thoughts crashing and tangling.

“Pardon?”

She nodded toward where the servant boy Ragnvaldr was meticulously laying out the far-casting components. “Ragnvaldr. He told me all about you. He really looks up to you.”

Loki couldn’t quite stop a laugh. “He’s chosen a truly poor idol, then. I’m nothing.”

“According to him, you’re a hero,” she said. “And from what Tony’s said about the Infinity War, he’s not wrong.”

“I destroyed your city and killed your people,” Loki pointed out. “And threatened you.” It was not, perhaps, the wisest thing to bring up, not while he still needed her help, but he would rather know now whether she planned to hold a grudge.

“Well.” She smiled faintly. “I can’t say I like your methods, but I do like the idea of the universe not being destroyed by an alien in love with Death. Besides,” she added, “you weren’t the first person ever to threaten me, and you weren’t the last. You _were_ the politest and most gentlemanly, though.”

“Being polite does not make one a hero, my lady,” Loki said dryly. “Nor does it make up for the fact that I am a frost giant and a sorcerer. There are few things worse, in Asgard’s eyes.” He smiled, all teeth and void. It was too easy to remember the shocked and appalled looks on the faces of Asgard’s nobility when he’d arrived at the post-battle feast in his Jotun skin. To remember the sick emptiness he’d felt as Thanos’s wakfu dissolved and dissipated beneath his fingertips. To remember that he’d been nothing more than a tool, a weapon crafted by Odin and planted where Thanos would find him.  

Lady Pepper looked away, back at the servant boy. “He’s a sorcerer, too,” she said. “Don’t you think, when you were his age, it would have been nice to know that Asgard had been saved by a sorcerer?”

Loki licked his lips, wanting to deny it but not quite able to say the words. He’d had Odin to look up to as a child, of course, but Odin was known first as a warrior and a king, only in passing as a sorcerer. And Loki had been much younger than Ragnvaldr when he realized that he could not stop being different, could not be what Asgard wanted from its people, no matter how hard he tried. But if he had known someone – had heard the bards sing of someone, seen statues of someone, had had anything more than vague secondhand mentions, in dusty moth-eaten tomes buried in the forgotten corners of the libraries, of someone – who had done something _good_ with magic...

Perhaps, then, it was not so strange a thing that a serving boy with a talent for sorcery would latch onto what Loki represented, even if that was more bad in Asgard’s eyes than good. And when he looked at it in that light, when he thought about what it meant not just for Ragnvaldr, but for Loki’s own children – both Chibi, who as one of the Eliatrope Six would command a massive sorcerous talent when he was grown, and the unborn child, who given its parentage was far more likely to have magic than not – it seemed abruptly much more important than he’d thought. Because the unborn child was Thor’s heir, and while the bargain with Odin had seemed safe enough half a year ago in the palace’s dining hall, it was only because Loki had never expected the line of succession to actually reach the child.

But then, no one had ever expected it to reach the adopted Jotun sorcerer, either.

Loki sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You truly are a wise queen,” he said to Lady Pepper. “Stark has no idea what a treasure he has in you.”

“Oh, I think he knows,” she said, and smiled. “But I’m not actually a queen.”

“No?” Loki said. “From what I have seen, the only reason you do not yet rule Midgard is because the thought has not occurred to you.” He smirked at her; she stared back, clearly not sure how to respond. Before she could come up with anything, he added, “I suppose if I’m to be an idol, I ought to act like one. If you will excuse me.” He lifted his glass in a teasing salute, then crossed to where the boy Ragnvaldr was finishing laying out the far-casting components.

“Is it suitable, my lord?” Ragnvaldr asked, and yes, Loki could see now that his nervousness wasn’t simply that of a serving boy in the presence of the most disliked member of the royal family. He gave him a reassuring smile.

“Yes, well done.” He crouched beside the boy and looked over the components. “Now, what do you know about preparing the far-casting?”

*             *             *

_He is dying._

_He has been dying forever, since he left, since they took him._

_He cannot remember sunlight. He cannot hear the storms._

_He cannot be dead. He has too much to (do still) (live for)._

_Orange lights, too bright, voices in a (familiar) (unfamiliar) rumble over him, and he tries to turn his head but this body is (not his) (too weak), this body does not listen to him, does not respond even as he screams for it to move, but his screams are silent and he is dying._

_He is on the floor, an ungraceful sprawl, but when he pushes himself upright his body moves, responds, and he cannot hesitate—_

_Fool, stop it, let them kill you—_

_No, he will not, he will not give up—_

_They reach for him, all orange lights and terrible eyes and he must move, move, move move move—!_

_Blue light and the world spinning around him, no up or down and his head spins with it, dizzy and sick and he falls, the floor hard and painful when he hits—_

_That is all that awaits you down this path, pain and more pain, stop it now and die like the rest of us, all of us, dead, dead, dead—_

_His family and friends, broken and scattered bodies around him, torn to pieces by awful orange light—_

_The traitor laughing, the traitor reaching out a hand, I’ll help you, come with me—_

_Stop it, I will not surrender!_

_Fool!_

_Fool, and the echo of another voice (traitor) (brother), as he forces this uncooperative body to move again, again, again, because they will come for him (they will find him, they always find him, no matter how far he runs)._

_Fool, and he looks up to see one of them standing over him, orange eyes awful, and he knows that they promise only death—_

_Fool, I warned you._

_A flash of orange, too bright, his head screaming, his body screaming, and his screams are no longer silent._

_He is dying._

_He is..._

_..._

_Fool._


	23. Xelor’s Sandglass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“C'est le moment. Je ne vais pas obtenir une autre occasion.”_  
>  -Wakfu S1E26, Le Mont Zinit

“ _Now_.”

It seemed like the whole world came to a stop when Tony said it. The Xelor above him, poised with her sword about to stab through his eye. Lounie beyond her, hands ready with her blood-red cord in case Tony tried to escape. Ush Galesh, standing over Remington Smisse with an awful predator’s smile on his lips.

Then everything happened at once.

An arrow flared into a net that wrapped around the Xelor, dragging her back and away from Tony even as she stabbed downward. A silver shield hit Lounie’s hands, blocking her cord and knocking her on her ass. More arrows, bright gold and snapping with power, flashed above Tony to slam into Ush Galesh, turning into ice that crackled around his feet and froze him in place.

Tony rolled over and pushed to his feet, looking back at the windowed seating nook where he’d left Ruel’s haven bag. Agent Barton and Evangelyne the Cra stood side by side, bows extended and fresh arrows already nocked, while Captain America lifted a hand to catch his returning shield and settled into a defensive position. Behind them, the haven bag was just spitting out the others: first Tristepin Percidal, who clanged his sword against the marble floor so that it extended into a full-sized, green-edged broadsword; then Ruel Stroud, holding his golden shovel like a spear; and finally the Hulk with a roar of challenge.

_Haven bags are rare, but priceless to the adventurers who have them,_ Remington had explained back in the inn. _They’re a whole room in a bag, that you can carry with you. We’ll hide everyone but Stark and me inside, and if we need you, you’ll be right there to help out._

The look of shock on Ush Galesh’s face as he took in the new arrivals was priceless. Remington laughed hoarsely, pushing himself up to one elbow where he was still curled on the floor at Ush’s feet. “How’s that for your _expectations_ , you sack of Gobball spit?”

“Stand down, Galesh,” Steve ordered levelly. “We’re just here for the Sram mask. Give it to us, and we’ll leave without any further trouble.”

Ush blinked, then threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, that’s _adorable_ ,” he purred. “You brought friends.”

“Last chance,” Steve said.

But Ush barely seemed to notice him. He kicked a foot free of the ice encasing his legs – and okay, yeah, he was freaking _strong_ because that same ice arrow had held Steve in place – and used it to nudge Remington hard enough that the thief fell over again. “It’s a better show than I ever thought I’d get from you,” he said, “but you’re still going to end up as food for my kittens. _Guards!_ ”

The double doors at the far end of the room slammed open, and a flood of cats burst into the room, yowling and screeching. Lamplight flashed off their bared fangs, and they moved with liquid speed around Remington and Ush toward the Avengers and their native companions.

“Oh shit,” Tony muttered.

_Their claws and teeth are poisonous,_ Remington had warned. _We used fish to distract them the first time, and dodged them the second time, but it’s a good bet if things go south Ush’ll call them in to put the numbers back on his side._

Steve reached back to thump the Hulk on the shoulder. “That’s you, big guy.”

“Good,” Barton muttered. “He _reeks_.”

The Hulk bellowed and charged toward the cats, and as he went past Tony caught a whiff of the fish oil they’d doused him in. Barton was right, the guy was pungent – but it worked. The cats stopped their forward rush so fast that some of them tripped over each other, and leaped on the Hulk instead.

Ush Galesh raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You do realize they’ll tear him to shreds,” he said.

“Well, nothing else we’ve found can so much as scratch him,” Tony said cheerfully, “so if they manage it, good for them.”

The Hulk roared again, then lowered his head and ran out the door into the tower proper. The cats who weren’t already clinging to him ran after him, yowling. Ush watched them go with an annoyed frown—

“Master!” Lounie shouted, and Ush jerked back even as Remington fired his gun. The shot went through the space where Ush’s head had been a moment before, and he looked down at Remington, eyes narrowed.

“Ooh, missed,” he growled. “Such bad luck.”

Remington’s eyes widened as Ush spread his hands. “Look o—” he started, but Ush kicked him in the jaw and he fell limp to the ground.

“Such _rotten_ luck,” Ush continued, and now Tony could see white light gathering around his hands, arcing like lightning between his palms.

_Ush has an incredibly powerful bad-luck spell_ , Remington had said. _He hits you with it and your attacks miss, your weapons jam, you trip over your own damn feet. He won’t have to do anything – we’ll probably end up killing ourselves._

Tony tried to shout, aware that the others were already moving, trying to dodge— but the light flared out around the room, crackling along Remington’s shushus, the archers’ bows, Steve’s shield, Tristepin’s sword, Ruel’s shovel. It hit Tony right in the suit’s arc reactor and he yelped, “Jarvis—!”

A burst of static momentarily deafened him, then Jarvis said, “We skipped out pineapples, ma’am.” Another burst of static, and half Tony’s HUD flared and died.

“Well, shit,” Tony muttered. “That’s just great.” Focused on his suit, he didn’t realize that Ush’s minions had moved until he heard Steve cry out. He spun around to see that the Xelor had teleported free of the net and appeared behind the Avengers, sword slashing at Evangelyne, while Lounie’s red cord had snapped out to wind around Steve’s arms, binding his wrists together and making him drop his shield.

Tristepin shouted and swung his sword to intercept the Xelor’s, but his foot slipped on the marble floor and he barely clipped it before falling flat on his face. Evangelyne had started to duck, but the impact with Tristepin’s sword had somehow put the Xelor’s blade right in line with her movement, and she gasped—

Barton’s arm flashed out and the Xelor’s sword cracked and screeched against his bow. Evangelyne finished rolling away and Tristepin climbed to his feet, facing off against the Xelor. Tony left them to it and turned to where Lounie had yanked Steve right off his feet, tossing him across the room to slam into a pillar. Tony raised a hand to fire a blast at her, but the palm blaster sparked and hissed and energy spiked like a needle into Tony’s palm instead.

He cursed under his breath. Okay, fine, screw the suit’s weapons. And screw Ush’s bad-luck spell while he was at it.

Lounie reeled Steve in and punched him in the face like she’d done to Tony earlier. Steve went flying, plowing through a pile of gold to crash into Ruel, who’d been trying to sneak through the shadows toward Ush. They went over in a heap and Ush laughed like a kid watching a cartoon, and while Tony wanted to deck the guy, he was okay with Ush watching them because that meant he wasn’t watching Tony, which meant that Tony could grab up Steve’s shield from where he’d dropped it.

“Cap!” he yelled, and flung it.

He didn’t have Steve’s aim, but he did manage to get the thing over Lounie’s head in Steve’s direction. For good measure he fired a couple of shoulder flares at her to keep her from trying to catch it – thank God the flares worked properly – and ran toward the opposite side of the room from where Steve and Ruel had fallen. “Tag!” he yelled over his shoulder at Lounie. “You’re it!”

She snarled and lifted a hand to wipe her nose and mouth where the concussion from the flares had drawn blood – only instead of wiping the blood off on her robe like a normal person, she shook her hand out to the side – and the blood formed into the shape of a knife under her fingers. It was the same flat bloody red as the cords she used, and Tony’s stomach roiled in disgust and horror as he realized what that meant. “You’re on,” Lounie said.

Tony sighed even as he dodged the red cords lashing at him. Fucking _magic._

*             *             *

Natasha closed her eyes, her attention focused wholly on the sounds of battle coming over her earpiece. It wasn’t easy to gauge a fight by sound alone, but she had to time this perfectly. Remington had figured Ush would hit them with the bad-luck spell, had figured things would go very bad very fast, which was why she was still in the haven bag and not out there with the others. Ush’s spell hadn’t hit her, which meant she still had a chance at hitting him.

She could hear the clang of swords – Tristepin and whoever had attacked him – as well as Stark’s shouting and occasional crashes, including one that she was pretty sure was Stark being shoved against Steve’s shield. Faint hissing noises marked Evangelyne’s rapid-fire arrows, while Clint’s bow twanged much less often but with more precision. Natasha couldn’t hear Ush Galesh at all, which probably meant that he was hanging back, watching the fight, enjoying it. Distracted.

They’d arranged a signal word, in case any of the others saw a good opening, but she’d stressed that she wasn’t going to rely on it. They’d be distracted by their own fights, and she wasn’t going to miss an opportunity if she heard one herself. She checked over her guns and her stingers one last time, then took a deep breath and willed herself out of the haven bag.

The sensation was a little like going through the Bifrost portal, an odd sort of twisting at the core of her being, but much less intense. Still, it was disconcerting enough that she was glad they’d practiced back at the inn. Natasha landed on her feet, taking in the scene at a glance: Stark, Steve, and Ruel fighting a redheaded woman halfway down the room, Tristepin trying to keep the attention of some kind of female mummy-slash-Iron Man suit – a Xelor? – long enough for the archers to get a good shot at her, and finally the tall, black-furred cat man that had to be Ush Galesh, standing at the far end of the room with a clear path to him. Natasha raised her guns and fired—

—and at the same time, the redheaded woman flung Steve across the room.

Natasha’s bullets hit Steve in the back; he cried out and crumpled when he landed. Her stomach knotted – his armor was bullet-resistant, but that didn’t mean the impact wouldn’t hurt like a bitch, and with what Ush Galesh had done to everyone’s luck, she wasn’t about to count on the armor holding true. But she couldn’t focus on that right now. The bark of her guns had been loud in the confined room, rattling off the marble floor and the piles of gold, and Ush Galesh was now looking straight at her.

“Clever,” he said, and there was something approaching admiration in his voice as he looked from her to Remington Smisse, who lay curled unconscious at his feet. “Maybe you could have been a worthy opponent.” He looked back at Natasha. “But.”

She was already moving, trying to dodge behind a pillar, but Ush Galesh was faster. He snapped his fingers and white light crackled around her hands, covering her guns and her stingers both. _Shit_.

“I still can’t allow you to live,” Ush continued calmly.

“Who says you’re ‘allowing’ anyone do anything?” Stark snapped. He let loose a volley of Jericho missiles, and though half of them detonated prematurely, enough made it to Ush Galesh that the explosions sent him staggering away from Remington.

Natasha fired again, the shots going frustratingly wild around Ush’s head and shoulders as he recovered his balance – but Clint heard the signal pattern in her timing and ducked away from the Xelor, nocking an arrow and sighting on Ush as he drew—

The _crack_ of his bow snapping in half was like a gunshot of its own, seeming to drown out all the other sounds of battle. Natasha froze, horrified – but the expression on Clint’s face was worse.

She knew how hard he tried to pretend that he didn’t feel like an outsider on the team, the weak human only good for occasionally sniping someone with an arrow, whose introduction to most of the Avengers had been while he’d been under Loki’s mind control and trying to kill them. She knew how hard he tried to be useful, how frustrated he got when he ran out of arrows halfway through a fight, or when combat happened in close quarters where arrows weren’t much good. She knew he’d come along on this mission in no small part to prove – to himself as well as to the other Avengers – that what Loki had done to him hadn’t permanently damaged him, that he could be useful even when they were up against gods and magic and nothing they had ever been trained for.

And his bow had just broken.

“Clint!” Natasha yelled. He looked up at her, shaky, rage in his eyes and his posture as he tossed away the pieces of his bow and reached for his knife. Natasha met his eyes, willing strength into him to finish the fight. Only when he nodded did she let out the breath she’d been holding.

Clint flicked a glance at the Xelor, pointedly, then shifted into a ready stance. Natasha nodded back. The Xelor had managed to knock aside Tristepin and now rounded on Clint and Evangelyne, who was trying to shoot Ush again, only to be foiled when the redhead dragged Stark into the line of fire. Clint raised his knife, eyes fixed on the Xelor floating above him. Natasha raised her own guns – hopefully the bad-luck spell was only protecting Ush, not his minions – and fired twice.

The Xelor teleported away, the bullets passing through empty space to hit the top of the far wall. She reappeared behind Evangelyne with her sword swinging – but Clint had expected it, was already spinning around. His knife lashed out, knocking the sword away from Evangelyne, and he followed it with an elbow, driving the Xelor into a close-quarters fistfight that she clearly wasn’t ready for. Evangelyne broke to the side, firing at Ush again, and the bad-luck spell must have started to wear off because Ush actually had to dodge the volley. Tristepin struggled back to his feet, leaping into the melee between Clint and the Xelor, while across the room, Ruel caught the redhead’s cords around his shovel and hauled her into a one-two attack by Steve and Stark.

Natasha looked back at Ush Galesh, who was still off-balance from dodging Evangelyne’s arrows. Her guns fired true this time, and for all his ducking and weaving, a shot still hit Ush in the shoulder. He snarled, baring viciously-sharp fangs. “ _CRONA!_ ” he howled.

A crack-hiss of static and suddenly the Xelor was in the middle of the room, arms stretched out stiffly to either side like the hands of a clock. Evangelyne shouted a warning as the Xelor’s hands snapped together in front of her with eerie mechanical precision, forefingers and thumbs linked in a deliberate symbol. Natasha tried to duck behind a pillar—

—but a flare of blue light erupted from the Xelor and flashed through the room in an instant, engulfing them all.  


	24. Roublard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Et elle?”_  
>  _“Disons… que c’est son jour de chance.”_  
>  Wakfu S2E03, “Remington Smisse”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fight scenes are hard to write. Fight scenes with this many moving pieces are nearly impossible. Plus, this chapter references a lot of backstory from the greater Wakfu universe as well, which won't be familiar to MCU-only fans, and I'm also making guesses at the relative power levels of demigods and other characters in the Wakfu universe (among other things). So if anything in this chapter is confusing, difficult to follow, or otherwise doesn't make sense, please let me know so I can work to improve!

_tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock-_

“ _CRONA!_ ” Ush yelled, and the Xelor teleported into the middle of the room, sword vanishing, arms moving like clockwork. Tony’s heart pounded in his chest, the adrenaline rush of battle and fear like a sped-up clock under his skin, one to which the Xelor’s motions were timed with freakish synchrony.

_tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock-_

“Look out!” Evangelyne shouted, and Tony tried to dive away, to get behind something before whatever the Xelor was doing happened—

_tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock-_

Blue light flashed through the room.

_tick-tock-tick—_

Tony couldn’t feel his heart beating.

It wasn’t a heart attack, not his heart stopping, it was ready to beat but it just wasn’t time yet. All around him, the other Avengers, the natives, Ush and his minions – they’d all frozen in place, like someone had hit the pause button on a movie. Stopped.

Except the Xelor.

She looked around the room at the various frozen combat tableaus: first Evangelyne, caught mid-leap and mid-draw, golden arrow pointed at Ush; then Agent Barton with his arm drawn back to throw his knife, Tristepin beside him preparing to charge, and Natasha beyond them with her guns out; over to Ruel cowering behind a treasure chest – no, not cowering, Tony realized suddenly, but on his hands and knees stuffing gold into his pockets, for chrissakes; and finally to where Tony stood next to Steve and Lounie. Steve had been putting her in a chokehold when the Xelor hit the pause button, trapping her so that Tony could hit her with the suit’s tazer, and while Tony himself was stuck in an awkward half-lunge from trying to dodge the Xelor’s… spell ( _and he still couldn’t believe he was saying that, dodging a spell, seriously_ ), neither the captain nor Lounie had had time to move.

Finally the Xelor looked over at Ush Galesh, and for the first time Tony noticed that while everyone else appeared unfocused, unaware of what was going on, Ush seemed fully aware. The corners of his eyes crinkled, a slow-motion smile which the Xelor seemed to take as an affirmation. She teleported to Steve, floating in the air just behind and above him. Her motions jerky and animatronic, she lifted one arm out to the side, summoning her sword back to her hand.

_No_.

If Tony’s heart hadn’t already been paused it would have stopped. She was going to kill Steve, kill all of them, right here while they were frozen, helpless, unaware even of what was going on. No wonder Ush hadn’t been worried – he’d had this trump card the whole time, he could stop time itself, could have his little time mummy run around and slaughter them all the moment things looked like they were going bad.

_No!_

Tony could see Ush turning, still in slow motion, just enough that he could watch the Xelor as her sword swung up. He had to do something, had to stop the Xelor somehow, he didn’t know why he was aware when no one else except Ush seemed to be, but it had to mean something, had to mean he could _do_ something—

_come on come on come on, move move move move…!_

A sensation deep in Tony’s chest, like the arc reactor’s leads snapping into place, like the pieces of the world shifting around him, and something _flashed_ behind his eyes—

The Xelor swung her sword.

_—tock._

Tony fired both palm blasters. The shots weren’t great, he was still mid-dodge and off-balance, but the blasts slammed into the Xelor’s shoulder and knocked her back enough that her sword missed Steve’s head by an inch. Time started up again, Tony’s heart beating like the steady ticking of a clock in his chest, even as everyone else in the room reacted in surprise to what must have looked like a skip in the video. Everyone except Ush Galesh, who was looking at Tony with new interest in his eyes.

His voice, though, betrayed only mild exasperation: “Crona, I thought you said even another Xelor couldn’t break your spell.”

“I’m just full of surprises,” Tony shot back. “Ready to say ‘uncle’ yet?”

“Hardly,” Ush said. “This is far more entertaining than I’d expected.” He drew himself up to his full height, fangs flashing as he smiled. “Maybe I’ll play a little, too.”

*             *             *

Natasha had been repositioning to get a better shot while Stark bantered with Ush Galesh, but Ush’s words brought her up short. She had just enough time to turn toward Clint, trying to signal him, when Ush moved.

She wasn’t quite sure what happened next: Ush was a black-and-gold blur crisscrossing the room and sending Ruel, Clint, and Evangelyne flying. Natasha barely had time to brace before Ush reached her, then a blow to the chest took her breath away and knocked her sprawling across the floor. It was several seconds before she could lift her head; when she finally managed it, she saw Ush in the middle of the room, trading blows with Tristepin. Tristepin’s demon sword had gone from green-edged silver to jagged grey stone marked with lines of molten orange. His face was expressionless, and his eyes had whited out completely. His movements were frighteningly precise, his technique impossibly perfect as he leapt and spun and struck at Ush Galesh with fists and feet as much as his sword, and his boast about being trained by a demon-god suddenly didn’t seem so far-fetched. Ush was barely able to dodge, much less strike back, and the few times he tried Tristepin spun away with almost prescient grace.

Across the room, Lounie had taken advantage of the distraction to break free of Steve’s grip and go after Stark, while Crona the Xelor was hammering on Steve’s shield. Natasha tried to push herself up, to get back to her feet, but pain shot through her whole body and she collapsed back to the floor, gasping. Her collarbone was broken, and possibly her ribs. She was almost certainly out of the fight. But maybe it wouldn’t matter; Tristepin had Ush at a disadvantage and if he could just take him out, the rest of them could deal with Ush’s minions—

“ENOUGH!” Ush roared. His hands came up, white power sparking between them, and though Tristepin dodged beautifully when it lashed toward him, it followed his movement and struck him in the spine. He cried out and staggered, and when he tried to dodge Ush’s follow-up attack, his cape tangled around his legs and he fell straight onto Ush’s claws. Blood sprayed and Ush threw Tristepin’s limp body aside like an unwanted toy. Natasha had a moment to see the vicious smile on his lips, then he was moving again in that black-and-gold blur.

When it was over, Ush stood in the center of the room, breathing hard, blood dripping from his claws to the floor. Lounie stood beside him, her red cords stretching through her fingers and around a pair of pillars, holding Steve spread-eagle and helpless in the air between them. Stark was embedded limply in the far wall, deep enough that he hadn’t slid to the ground yet, while Tristepin still lay in an unmoving, bloody heap, and the others were scattered unconscious around the room.

A bellow sounded from the far end of the room, and Ush looked up, frowning. Movement in the hallway beyond the double doors warned of the Hulk’s return – but even as he approached, Crona teleported to the doors and slammed them closed. The Hulk hit them with an impact that rattled the whole room, but the doors didn’t budge.

“I had them strengthened,” Ush said conversationally over the sound of the Hulk beating on the doors. He strolled over to Remington Smisse, who still lay on the ground where Ush had left him. Remington was conscious again, eyes open behind his mask, but he seemed unable to move even when Ush kicked him hard in the stomach. “It’s cute,” Ush continued, “that you still seem to think you can defeat me. Your performance this time was better than average, I’ll grant you that, but you don’t understand. Luck herself is on my side – you can _never_ win.”

Luck. That was it, that was everything, Natasha thought tiredly. How could you defeat an enemy for whom the very laws of probability would bend? Except…

_The absolute_ best _of luck to you_ , Loki had said to her, way back in the Sadida treehouse. She had thought she’d imagined the tingle running through her body at his words – but what if she hadn’t? Loki knew Ush, and presumably knew about his luck-bending abilities. It was very much his style to set her up as a cat’s-paw, arming her with exactly what she’d need to take Ush down.

Natasha swallowed. She had no idea where her guns had gone; she’d lost them when Ush had hit her. But she still had her stingers, including the Hulk-class ones Banner had developed for her as a peace offering. And even if her collarbone was broken, her left arm was still mostly working. She just needed a distraction.

“How do you think I’ve managed to rule Bonta for so long?” Ush was saying. He was only partially addressing Remington now, was sliding full-on into villainous monologuing, and she just had to hope he was as good at it as some other nasties they’d taken down, because she could use the time. She let his words fade into the background as she looked around, searching for something – anything – that she could use—

Golden eyes gleamed in the darkness of the windowed seating nook where the haven bag sat forgotten: Grany Smisse, Remington’s black cat brother, his fur rendering him nearly invisible in the shadows. Remington had made him promise to stay in the haven bag the whole time no matter what, but evidently he was as good at following directions as any other cat. He was watching her, crouched and tense, all his fur on end. She wished he was Clint, wished she could signal him properly, but he wasn’t and she couldn’t, so she settled for flashing the stinger she’d palmed and hoping he got the message. His golden eyes widened briefly, then narrowed, and he faded away into the shadows.

Natasha swallowed hard, turning back to Ush and gritting her teeth against the pained sound that tried to escape as the movement jarred her broken bones. He was standing over Remington again, one foot on the thief’s chest, while Remington glared helplessly up at him. “No one can defeat me,” Ush was saying gleefully. “Not even that silver-tongued madman King Sheran Sharm has working as an ambassador. Oh, he came the closest, I’ll give him that, but even he failed miserably.”

Natasha hid a smile. Of _course_ Loki had tried, and now she could understand why he’d gone to such great lengths to pit them against Ush, to set Natasha up to defeat him, why he hadn’t even considered other options for finding Thor. Because he was Loki, and he never had just one plan, never just one goal. She may not like him, but she could certainly respect him.

“So give it up, Mister Remington,” Ush continued, almost purring. “You were entertaining enough while you lasted, but I’ve got better things to do now.” He reached for Remington with a blood-covered hand. “So, my little thief, it’s time for your last—”

“ _WILL YOU SHUT UP ALREADY, FISHBREATH?!”_

Even as he shouted it, Grany came flying out of the shadows. He landed squarely on Ush’s back, claws digging in, fangs flashing as he bit at Ush’s neck. Ush yowled in surprise and pain, staggering away from Remington.

“Grany!” Remington shouted in horror. He shoved himself half-upright, scrabbling desperately for a weapon.

Ush reached back, grabbing Grany and yanking, trying to dislodge him. But Grany held on, biting at Ush’s hands to keep him from getting a good grip and scrambling around his neck so that he was hanging down Ush’s chest. He met Natasha’s eyes over Ush’s shoulder for just an instant, then sank his fangs into Ush’s ear and tugged. Ush howled, head ducking forward, baring the back of his neck, and Natasha shoved herself up onto one elbow, stinger in hand. _Loki, this had better work_ , she thought. The answering static tingle that ran up her arm didn’t surprise her in the least, and she flung the stinger with all her strength.

It hit squarely at the base of his neck, sparking and crackling as it fired a jolt of electricity powerful enough to stagger the Hulk straight into Ush’s spine. Grany had leaped free at the last instant, and he landed on the floor beside his brother as Ush staggered, gasped, and finally collapsed limp to the ground.

Natasha held her breath. It wasn’t a guarantee; she had no idea how tough Ush was compared to the Hulk, whether the stinger would be enough to take him out of the fight for good. And Ush’s minions were still in play, except that Lounie was staring at Ush on the ground with her mouth open, almost eager, and Natasha remembered suddenly what Remington had said back in the pub: _I heard she had a sister. Did she trade Grany for you?_

Crona looked between Ush and Lounie, then her round eyes narrowed and she teleported behind Lounie, sword poised to strike—but Lounie whirled, lifting a hand to block. The sword went straight through her palm, blood spurting out around the wound. Crona hesitated, obviously startled, and Lounie grinned. She slid her hand off the sword and shook it out to the side, the blood flowing and coagulating into more thin cords, and even as Crona realized her mistake, even as she tried to teleport away, Lounie whipped the cords around her neck and flung her headfirst into a pillar.

As Crona slid limp to the ground, Natasha looked back to where Remington Smisse was slowly, painfully struggling to his feet. He’d found his guns, one in each hand, and though blood dripped down his arms his aim was steady as he leveled both barrels at Ush’s head. Even from her poor angle on the floor Natasha could see Ush’s eyes widen, fear breaking through the daze of the stinger.

“I told you,” Remington said softly. His voice was cold, utterly empty of emotion, and Natasha recognized the hollowness of a man who had finally reached the end of a terrible mission. “You’ll pay for what you did to us.”

Ush made a sound, choking and desperate, but Remington just cocked his guns. “People aren’t toys,” he added, softer still. “If even a loser parasite thief like me knows that, what does that make you?”

Ush managed to lift one hand, shaking, pleading. Remington’s expression didn’t change as he fired both guns point-blank into Ush’s eyes. Natasha didn’t look away, even when he fired again, and again and again and again, until the shushus in both guns choked to an exhausted halt. Still Remington kept pulling the triggers, pins clicking hollowly, and it wasn’t until Grany bumped gently against his leg that he collapsed to his knees beside Ush’s body, letting the guns fall from his hands and burying his fingers in his brother’s fur.


	25. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You mustn’t lose hope that your father will return to us. And your brother.”  
> “What hope is there for Thor?”  
> - _Thor_

Lounie was the first to recover. She staggered forward, looking almost dazed; Natasha at first thought she was going toward Ush's body, but instead she passed him by and went to the room's big door. She hauled it open, ducking the Hulk when he came charging past her, and shouted into the hallway, "Sadie! _Sadie!_ "

_Her sister_ , Natasha realized. Well, they could deal with Lounie in a minute - right now Natasha needed to make sure her teammates were alive. She gritted her teeth against the pain and managed to push herself up off the floor a little. "Hulk!" she called.

He looked over at her from where he'd been standing in the middle of the room, baffled and annoyed by the lack of things to hit, and grunted.

"I, uh," she said, and swallowed. All these years and he still made her nervous, but at least she knew how to talk to him. "We need Bruce," she said. "People are hurt."

He stared at her for a moment, teeth grinding, but he shrunk down to regular size, the green fading from his skin - and Bruce stumbled, blinking, caught himself and shook his head. “What happened?” he asked, looking around the room.

“We won,” Natasha said. “See who’s still alive.”

He went to the visibly-bleeding Tristepin first, though he frowned at her as he checked Tristepin’s pulse. “How bad are you?”

“Broken collarbone,” she said. “I’ll live.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t push it. Natasha sagged back against the floor, closing her eyes. She could hear voices out in the tower proper, shouts and cries that sounded more like relief and joy than anything to be worried about. A creak of metal and a string of muttered curses marked Stark’s return to consciousness, followed by a clattering and clunking as he climbed out of the Iron Man-shaped dent in the wall and went to help Bruce. She let their voices wash over her, only half-paying attention to the worried cry of _Pinpin!_ that indicated Evangelyne had woken up, to the groans that said Clint and Steve were both alive and coming awake.

Then a new voice shouted, “Remington!”

Natasha made herself open her eyes in time to see a woman come running into the room, followed by a short, stocky, black-furred Ecaflip man. The woman had brown skin and pixie-cut white hair, and was wearing a fitted black bodysuit not unlike Evangelyne’s, though without the leather accents; the Ecaflip wore baggy black trousers and nothing else. The woman ran to Remington, who was staring at her with exhausted surprise. “Opus…?” he said, then looked past her to the Ecaflip. “Gring…?”

“We thought Ush had killed you by now!” Grany added.

“He wanted to gloat,” the woman - Opus - said bitterly. “Believe me, I wished I was dead more than a few times.”

“Huh,” Remington said. He still looked dazed; Natasha suspected he was in shock both from his wounds and from killing Ush Galesh.

Grany seemed to notice, too, because he said, “Great, good to have you back. Now make with the healing.”

Opus blinked at him, then looked at Remington again with a more critical eye. “By Eniripsa,” she muttered. “You do have a knack for staying alive.”

“Wasn’t gonna die until I killed Ush,” Remington said, and grinned, showing bloody teeth. Opus rolled her eyes, but knelt beside him and held out a hand over Remington’s chest. White light gathered around her palm and flowed into him. She was a healer, then, like Timov had been. That was good. Between Opus and Bruce, they’d be able to take care of the wounded. Natasha could just… lie here for a bit.

She closed her eyes again and let herself drift. Far in the background she was aware of the others moving around, putting each other back together; of Clint and Steve both coming to fuss over her - but carefully, gentle enough not to jar her broken bones until they had to move her so that Opus could work her healing magic. By the time Natasha blinked herself back to full awareness, Tristepin was sitting up with a bandage around his stomach, boasting to Evangelyne about his mighty battle with Ush; Remington was on his feet with Grany perched on his shoulder, talking to Gring the Ecaflip; and everyone else except Bruce, who was watching Opus heal Natasha, was searching the room for the Sram mask. And except Ruel, Natasha realized with some amusement - he was just stuffing as much of Ush’s treasure as he could into his haven bag.

Opus gave Natasha a tired smile. “That’s the best I can do for now,” she said. “It’ll get you out of here, at least.”

“Thanks,” Natasha said. Her collarbone and ribs still ached, and someone had bound her arm to her chest with strips of cloth to keep the bones immobile, but she could at least get up and move around.

Steve walked beside her as she took a few careful steps forward, his hand half-extended to steady her if she stumbled. She wasn’t nearly as dizzy or light-headed as she’d expected to be, considering her injuries; apparently Eniripsa healing magic was good for side effects, too. She gave Steve a reassuring smile. “I’m fine.”

“I know,” he said. One corner of his mouth quirked up in that little self-deprecating grin. “Humor me.”

She snorted. “I’m a big girl, Steve. I can—”

Footsteps clicked in the doorway and they both turned to see Lounie enter the room, one arm around the waist of a slim young woman who had to be her sister Sadie. She had the same red hair, the same freckles; and they had the same smile whenever they looked at each other. Sadie was barefoot and wearing the bloodstained green robe Lounie had been wearing earlier, while Lounie herself wore only simple grey leggings and an undershirt. In her free hand, she was holding something. A mask, Natasha realized suddenly. She traded a look with Steve as Lounie approached them.

“You said you were looking for the Sram mask,” Lounie said, and held out the mask in her hand. “Master kept his most valuable masks in his throne room.”

Steve took the mask from her, looking it over with a critical eye. It was simple, all black wood and delicate carved lines, but it had an elegance to it that hinted at hidden power. He was tilting it to show Natasha when Remington appeared at his elbow, stroking his beard. “It looks right,” Remington said, then narrowed his eyes at Lounie. “Why are you so helpful all of a sudden? And don’t think this gets you a free pass - I still owe you for what you did to Grany and me.”

Lounie’s arm tightened around her sister. “I’ve wanted Ush dead for _years_ ,” she hissed. “I’m sorry about what happened to you, but I didn’t have a choice. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same if it was your brother Ush _took a liking to_.”

Natasha winced at the venom in her voice. Remington blinked, then abruptly seemed to get what she meant, his dark eyes flicking to Sadie and then over to Ush’s body. “Well,” he said. He pulled the curved, double-headed dagger from his belt and offered it to Sadie. “He’s a little too dead to feel it, but if you want to have some fun…”

Sadie shook her head, leaning against Lounie. “I don’t want to go anywhere near him ever again,” she whispered.

“Fair enough,” Remington said easily, and flipped the dagger back through his belt. To Lounie he added, “I’ll let it slide. But I never want to see your face again.”

She snorted. “Works for me. I’ve got some work to do, anyway. Everyone Ush turned into a bow meow is human again, and someone’s got to handle this mess.”

Remington’s mouth tightened, and he looked to where Grany - still in cat form - was talking to Gring. “Not everyone,” he said, his voice tight.

Lounie followed his gaze. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “Ush used a different method to change him than the others. It’s why he could still talk. But I don’t know how to reverse it.”

Remington didn’t answer. Steve spoke up, “We told you we’ll get him changed back. Don’t worry.”

Remington’s fists clenched at his sides. “Yeah,” he said, then shook himself. “You’ve got your mask. Let’s get out of here.”

*             *             *

They were back in the Sadida Kingdom by midafternoon the next day, even though riding a dragoturkey was clearly painful for Natasha, and Tony had more bruises than he could count. He was pretty sure Steve and Barton weren’t much better off, although Tristepin, at least, seemed fine - apparently Iops had some kind of natural healing factor. Yet Tony was well aware that they couldn’t afford time to rest up and heal properly. Thor was still in the Mechasms’ hands, and the longer they took to find and rescue him, the less likely it was they’d find him alive. And the more time the Mechasms themselves would have to find their tracking beacon, and with it, the Eliatropes and this entire world.

Remington and Grany were with them, silent and brooding as they rode Natasha’s dragoturkey; the brothers had left Opus and Gring behind in Bonta with a promise to return after they’d met with Loki. Natasha had opted to ride double with Barton, ostensibly because she wanted to use him to steady herself and make the ride less painful for her broken bones. But Tony suspected that she was playing emotional support to Barton, and that was a whole different problem right there. Barton had alternated between being aggressively helpful whenever he could, and being sullen and withdrawn when he couldn’t. Evangelyne had said, quietly, _it’s difficult for a Cra whose bow is broken. It’s like losing a part of yourself._ Barton might not actually be a Cra, but the loss of his bow was clearly hitting him hard.

Still, there wasn’t much to be done about it, at least not until they got back to the Sadida Kingdom. There, Barton could use the Bifrost portal to jump back to Earth and get another bow. Evangelyne had offered to try to get him a Cra bow, but he’d shaken his head; Tony wasn’t sure if he thought Evangelyne’s wooden bow was too simple, lacking all the fancy extras Barton’s own bow had had, or if it was some kind of weird pride thing. But either way, it meant that he was out of commission until he could get back to Earth and pick up a replacement - which in turn meant more time spent not rescuing Thor.

Tony sighed, and told himself again that there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He might be the guy who fixed things, but people weren’t things, as Pepper liked to remind him. Besides, there were more pressing matters at hand, like the fact that when they got back to the Sadida Palace and Evangelyne led the way up to Loki’s treetop lab, they found Jahanna and Yugo hard at work - but no sign of Loki.

“He’ll be back soon,” Jahanna said from where she sat in a comfortable chair made from a single huge flower. The Tesseract - the Eliacube - sat on her shoulder in bird form, clicking and chirping softly to itself. Jahanna’s hands were moving as she spoke, bright blue light flowing from her fingertips to form runes and symbols in the air before settling into the increasingly-large runic circle in the middle of the balcony floor. Yugo was sprawled on his stomach beside the circle, using chalk to carefully scribe more symbols around its edges. A little yellow puffball of a bird was perched on his head between his cat ears, watching with apparent interest.

“He had to go to Earth,” Jahanna continued, “to pick up some—ow!” She winced and rubbed her stomach. “This mortal live-birth thing is _so_ stupid.”

“Hey,” Tony said, “it worked for you, didn’t it?”

She gave him a haughty look. “I was _hatched_ like a _civilized_ person, thank you very much.”  

“Hatched,” Tony repeated skeptically.

“From a Dofus,” Yugo chimed in. “All the Eliatrope Six and their dragon siblings are hatched that way. Me and Ad, too, and Chibi and Grougal.”

Tony frowned, turning that over in his head and wondering if it would be wildly inappropriate to ask how the heck it worked and if it meant they didn’t have belly buttons. Before he could say anything, though, both Eliatropes’ cat ears perked up, and they looked in unison off to the southeast. “Loki’s back!” Yugo announced.

“Try it,” Jahanna said, which apparently meant more to Yugo than to Tony, because Yugo sat up, crossing his legs and putting his hands in his lap. The Eliacube flitted from Jahanna’s shoulder to Yugo’s, making the yellow bird on Yugo’s hat chirp nervously; then Yugo closed his eyes and frowned in concentration. A portal opened in front of him, in the middle of the circle, and a moment later, Loki stepped through - with Jane Foster holding onto his arm, and the Asgardian servant boy Ragnvalder following at their heels.

“Holy crap,” Jane said. She let go of Loki ( _and it was totally, completely unfair that she didn’t look at all bothered by the portal_ ) and took a careful few steps forward, staring around her in shock. “Holy _crap_.”

Loki, meanwhile, was surveying everyone’s various injuries with a frown. “Did you get it?” he asked.

Steve held up the Sram mask, and Tony didn’t think he imagined the way Loki’s shoulders eased. “Ush Galesh is dead,” Steve said.

“Tsk,” Loki said, without any sincerity whatsoever. “I’m sure he’ll be missed.”

Remington snorted where he’d been leaning against the balcony railing, Grany on his shoulder. “Something like that. You’re that alchemist, aren’t you, the Sadida king’s pet sorcerer? They said you can turn Grany human again.”

Loki straightened, looking at Grany with abrupt seriousness. “Yes. Come here, please.”

“Circle’s done enough for you to use,” Jahanna said. “At least for this. We still need to finish the binding sigils.”

Loki nodded, motioning for Grany to stand in the middle of the circle. Yugo backed hastily away; taking their cue from him, Jane and Ragnvaldr cleared out as well, and everyone else pressed back around the edges of the balcony. Remington alone stayed near the circle, next to Loki, watching him with his arms folded and a worried expression he couldn’t quite hide.

Loki, for his part, was oddly expressionless. Tony still wasn’t really sure how to read him any more, now that insanity wasn’t laying his emotions bare for all to see, but there was definitely something _off_ in the sharpness of Loki’s movements, in the way he kept his face studiously blank, in how he never quite looked at Remington. He rolled his hands in front of him, summoning the second Eliacube from hammerspace. Off to the side, Jane gasped and muttered under her breath; Ragnvaldr murmured something back. Loki ignored them, sending the Eliacube to hover above Grany in the middle of the circle.

Grany watched it warily, ears and tail straight up on alert. “Remi…” he said.

“You’re sure you can do this, alchemist?” Remington asked Loki, an edge in his voice. “If you hurt my brother—”

“Your brother will be fine,” Loki said, and there, something was _definitely_ off in his voice, but dammit if Tony could figure out what it was. Maybe worry showing through, either for Thor or for the Eliatropes; Loki still hadn’t given much of a hint whether he was in this mess for Thor’s sake, or to protect his wife and friends. The oath he’d made Tony swear on the way to Emrub had included _find and punish those who took my brother_ , so maybe it was worry for Thor, especially with the Smisse brothers here to remind him about the whole brotherhood thing?

Loki extended his hands toward Grany, although he was careful not to reach past the edge of the circle. The Eliacube spun in midair, its glow brightening, and Loki began to chant. Tony couldn’t understand the words, but they sent a tingle up his spine, and when Loki gestured sharply, Tony could have sworn he heard a deep clock-tower chime ringing somewhere in the distance.

Blue light flowed from Loki’s fingers into the circle, and half the runes lit up. Light poured out of the Eliacube as well, reaching down to join that of the circle. Grany’s fur stood on end and his claws dug into the wooden floor; Remington swallowed hard and made an abortive move for his brother. Then Grany’s body _bucked_ , hard, and he let out a pained yowl. His shoulders twisted, body contorting horribly, and the yowl rose to an agonized scream. Remington’s fists clenched and Yugo grabbed his arm before he could try to interfere.

Inside the circle, Grany’s body began to stretch and grow, black fur falling away to reveal pale skin, muscle and bone twisting and cracking under the strain of transformation. Loki gestured again and the Eliacube flared, bright enough that Tony squinted away. When he could see again, the glow from the Eliacube and the runes had faded, and in the middle of the circle was crouched a man.

As a human, Grany was huge and muscular - easily of a size with Thor - with long orange hair and blue eyes. He was also completely naked, which didn’t seem to matter to Remington, who flung himself at his brother hard enough that Grany staggered. Their embrace was pure raw emotion, the kind of thing that would make a Hallmark commercial cry. Tony looked away - and realized that Loki had vanished.

He scanned the balcony - where the heck could the guy have gone so quickly? - but didn’t see Loki anywhere. Jahanna, though, was watching Tony, her dark eyes sad. He felt an odd pressure on his mind, the mental equivalent of someone pushing him gently in the direction of the stairs down. He frowned at Jahanna and she tilted her head at the stairs, just enough for him to get the message: _go_.

O-kay. Why she was sending him after Loki, Tony had no idea, but he slipped past the others, who were either watching the oh-so-touching brotherly reunion, or in Clint and Natasha’s case, dozing shoulder to shoulder on a bench, and headed down the stairs.

He found Loki two landings down, braced on the railing with his fingers locked around it in a white-knuckled grip. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were closed, as if in pain. He didn’t acknowledge Tony, didn’t even seem to notice him. Tony frowned, because what the hell, why would Loki be this upset? It was kind of an extreme reaction to be worry for Thor, especially considering how cold he’d been about Thor’s kidnapping otherwise, except…

Except the sight of a pair of brothers reunited was obviously too much for him, and Tony remembered the way Loki’s voice had cracked when he’d said _your brother will be fine_ , remembered again the oath Loki had given him on the way to Emrub: _find and punish those who took my brother_. Not “find my brother”, and in fact he’d been visibly upset when Tony had said “rescue Thor” instead. Had been largely avoiding talking about Thor at all, come to think of it, and suddenly something occurred to Tony.

He leaned on the railing next to Loki, draping his arms over it and staring out over the treetops. “You think Thor’s dead,” he said quietly.

Loki twitched sharply, but didn’t open his eyes. “You don’t?” he whispered. “The Mechasms got what they needed from him. They’ve no reason to keep him alive.”

He had a point, and Tony winced. “Okay, but have you ever heard of this thing called ‘hope’? Because where I’m from, we assume people are alive until we find dead bodies.”

“I can’t afford to have my judgment clouded by senseless hope,” Loki said. There was an edge of despair in his voice. “If I can do nothing to save my brother, then at least I can do all in my power to save the Eliatropes and this world.”

Tony frowned at him. “Please tell me this plan you’re putting together involves at least _looking_ for Thor.”

“Doing so is a risk,” Loki said. “Would you risk those you know still live, on the impossible hope that the most brutal killing machines in the Krosmos decided not to kill a prisoner for whom they no longer have a use?”

“Yes,” Tony said flatly. “I would.” Loki’s eyes snapped open and he stared at Tony, clearly startled. Tony met his gaze. “Because Thor’s my friend, and I’m not giving up on him. He’s a tough guy, he wouldn’t go down without one hell of a fight.”

Loki laughed at that, more than a little hysterical, his old madness threatening to return; swallowed hard and licked his lips. “Fear not, Man of Iron,” he said, and there was something strange in his voice that Tony couldn’t quite place. “I intend to look for my brother before I deal with the Mechasms.”

“Good,” Tony said. “We’ll get him back. Just… hang in there, okay?”

Loki managed something that was almost a smile. “It seems you have hope enough for the both of us,” he whispered.

“Yeah, well, I’m rich, I can afford to overstock.”

That startled a real laugh out of Loki, and Tony smiled back. Loki turned back to the railing, but his grip on it was no longer white-knuckled, and when Tony leaned on the rail beside him, he didn’t move away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the interesting things about Tony Stark is how he's usually completely, hilariously clueless about the people around him - but the moment he pays them any attention, he's scarily perceptive, and can usually understand immediately what they're feeling or what they need from him. Whether the cluelessness is a deliberate choice on his part, or a subconscious defense mechanism, I've yet to figure out. 
> 
> **On an unrelated note: I will probably miss the next update.** I'm in Europe this month (yay!), ostensibly for work, although I'm taking some time to explore as well. Obviously, both work and exploring Europe take precedence over writing fanfic. If I find the time, I'll certainly do my best to get you the regularly-scheduled chapter, but for now I'd say don't expect it. Assuming I miss it, we'll be back on schedule on July 1st. See you then!


	26. Lies and Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well, if I put an arrow through Loki’s eye socket, I’d sleep better at night, I suppose.”  
> “Now you sound like you.”  
> - _The Avengers_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, we're back! Happy Canada Day and/or Fourth of July!

“Okay,” Stark said. “How the hell do you _do_ that?”

Loki smirked. He had just summoned Jane Foster’s portal device to the center of the draconic rune circle; though normally he couldn’t vanish things that large, the Eliacube was lending him the power he needed. And while it was hardly his intention to show off, he couldn’t deny that the confounded look on Stark’s face was amusing. It was too bad Stark's companions weren't there to see it, but they had already left, going variously to get Remington and Grany set up with fresh clothes and transportation; find Timov the healer to tend their injuries; or simply to eat and rest. Only Stark had remained, along with Jane and Ragnvaldr, evidently to watch Loki and the Eliatropes finish the device’s preparation.

“Good luck getting him to answer,” Jane said dryly. “He wouldn’t tell me either.”

“You wouldn’t understand it,” Loki said. He crouched beside the device to check that its arrival had not disturbed the runes. “Your science isn’t even advanced enough to comprehend the warp and weft of space, much less how to bend it to one’s purpose.”

“He keeps saying that,” Jane complained to Stark, then to Loki, “You keep saying that, but then you don’t _explain_ , so how do you expect us to _get_ that advanced?”

“And don’t give us any crap about ‘we figured it out, so you can too’,” Stark added before Loki could respond. “Information sharing is a virtue.”

“Certainly,” Loki agreed. “Learn to speak the Alltongue so that I may properly explain it, and then I’ll teach you.”

Stark narrowed his eyes. “You said our lives are too short for the Alltongue.”

“Indeed,” Loki said. He stood up, dusting off his hands.

“You’re a _jerk_ ,” Stark informed him.

“So I’ve been told.” Loki rounded the circle to the other side of the balcony, where Jahanna and Yugo were building the last runic ring. It hovered vertically in front of them, draconic letters spinning lazily around the edges. As he watched, both Eliatropes gestured, and the ring floated up and over the portal device, sliding down to slot neatly into the empty space between the edges of the existing runes and the base of the device. Wakfu flared, and Loki felt it when the magic link between runic circle and portal device snapped into place.

Apparently he wasn’t the only one. “Cool,” Yugo said gleefully. “It _worked_!”

“So it did,” Loki said. “Well done.” He ruffled Yugo’s hat between the fox ears, making the boy duck away in embarrassment. “Any word from the dragons?” he asked. Before he’d left for Earth, he’d sent the dragons to scout for a reasonably safe place from which to launch their attack - doing so from the heart of the Sadida Kingdom was beyond foolish, especially when the World of Twelve had so many convenient uninhabited islands.

Jahanna nodded. “Oma Island is still empty, and a lot of Grougaloragran’s protective wards survived, so they think it’s safe to use it. They’re clearing out some predators and will let us know when they’re ready for us to portal over.”

“Good,” Loki said. “You should both take the opportunity to rest. Once we begin this, we’ll have little time for it.”

“‘This’ being what exactly?” Stark asked from behind him. “You haven’t bothered to tell us this plan of yours. Assuming you have a plan, because when we left you very much did not.”

“Oh, I have a plan,” Loki said.

“And you’re going to tell us, right?” Stark pressed. “‘Cause you have a history of not doing that, and that’s seriously not cool. We need to know what we’re getting into, we’re not chess pieces you can just shove around—”

Loki rolled his eyes. “ _Yes_ , I’ll tell you. But not now; I’d prefer not to have to repeat myself. Once we reach Oma Island, after the dragons send the signal and your companions have had time to heal and rest. You should go, too," he added, when Stark opened his mouth. "There's little else to do until then."

"Come on," Jane said, and tugged Stark’s arm. "If you don't want to rest, can you show me around? You may have done this other-worlds thing before, but I haven't, and I want to see _everything_."

Stark was still frowning at Loki - and Loki would have to be careful; the man was far more shrewd than he liked people to think - but abruptly he turned and flashed Jane a smile. "Sure, yeah, let's go. It's pretty crazy here, there's a lot to see."

"I'll go with you," Yugo said. "The Sadida Kingdom's awesome - we can find Amalia and we’ll give you a tour."

Loki couldn't help but smile at the boy's enthusiasm. He and Jahanna watched as Yugo used a portal to take the lead, startling Jane, and steered the humans down the steps.

When they were gone, Jahanna said, "You're not _actually_ going to tell them."

"Of course not," Loki said.

"Good," Jahanna said. She caught his arm and used it to leverage herself out of her chair. "I wish I could go with you."

"I know." He pulled her close, mindful of the swell of her pregnant stomach. "But holding open the portal is no less important than fighting with us."

"Spare it for Adamaï," Jahanna said, and kissed him. "And I know you'd rather lock me up in Emrub until this is over, so thank you for not suggesting it."

"You would skin me alive if I did," Loki pointed out.

"I would," she agreed easily. "We'll be all right. We'll find Thor, chase off the Mechasms, and get back to our lives."

"You're as hopeless an optimist as Stark," he told her. But her words were reassuring, a steady point of confidence to hold onto even as the world teetered dangerously around him, as the sharp edges of madness threatened to slice him open again if he thought too long on what it would mean if he was right and Thor was truly dead. He wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing strength from her heat, and let her pull him through a portal to their room to get ready.

*             *             *

Natasha let herself doze while Timov finished healing her broken collarbone, knowing that Clint was nearby and keeping watch. But she still came to alertness when she heard soft voices talking, Clint and… Evangelyne maybe? She blinked her eyes open.

Timov had finished but was still nearby, packing the small bag of salves and potions he’d brought and trying to pretend he wasn’t straining to hear the quiet conversation at the other side of the room. Natasha turned her head and spotted Evangelyne standing just inside the doorway, holding a narrow leaf-wrapped bundle out to Clint. Clint’s posture was tense and his jaw was clenched, but when Evangelyne offered the bundle a second time, he accepted it despite the reluctance writ into every line of his body. Evangelyne studied his face for a moment, then put a hand on his arm a bit awkwardly. Clint managed a crooked smile; she returned it, then left the room.

Clint stared at the bundle in his hand for a moment, then came over to flop down on the bed beside Natasha. She sat up, bumping his elbow, but he didn’t respond. Timov was still hovering nearby, clearly hoping to listen in; Natasha fixed him with a stare until he blushed, grabbed his bag, and fled.

Clint still didn’t say anything, staring at the floor past his knees, the bundle on his lap. Natasha bumped his elbow again. “Clint.”

Wordlessly he began unwrapping the bundle. The oversized leaves fell away to reveal a curve of sleek black wood maybe a foot long, the middle part carved like a bow’s grip and wrapped with leather. Clint held it up, studying it for a moment, then extended his arm like he was about to shoot. Green light flared over the black wood, stretching out from either end to form the arms of a bow, then back in, the ends bending as the bow strung itself. The whole process took only a second or two, and when it finished Clint held an elegant black bow not unlike Evangelyne’s, though where hers had a flair of leafy decoration, this bow had a predatory minimalism, sleek and dark and deadly.

“She said she got it from the Cra armory, that it’s a spare and no one would mind if I used it,” Clint said quietly. “But she’s a bad liar.”

Natasha didn’t answer. Even her untrained eye could see that the bow had several modern additions and modifications which weren’t likely to have come from the relatively primitive locals. And it fit his hand as if it had been made for him. _Not ‘as if’_ , she thought wearily. It _had_ been made for him, and she wondered how long Loki had been planning this, whether he considered it a final discharge of the debt he owed Clint, both for Clint saving Thor’s life, and for what he’d suffered under Loki’s mind control.

"It doesn't mean you have to stop hating him," she told him.

His mouth quirked. "I don't plan to." He looked over the bow in his hand, wrapping his fingers around the string and testing its pull, sighting down his arm before easing it back. "But... I guess I can stop trying to put an arrow in his eye socket."

She nodded, leaning into his shoulder a little. What Loki had done to Clint was unforgivable, and she knew Loki knew it. But the fact that he had still intended to make an apology - and, judging by how long it must have taken to make that bow, had planned to do so well before the Avengers had come to this world - was almost reassuring, in an odd way. It meant that for all he clearly still didn't trust them, or even like them, he did consider them worthy enough to treat fairly. And Clint knew it, could recognize the gesture for what it was even if he would never stop hating Loki, would never forgive him.

Such a little thing was hardly a vote of confidence for their fragile alliance, not when both sides still didn’t trust each other, when Loki still thought of the Avengers as Thor’s thug friends, when the Avengers still thought of Loki as a dangerous madman. But it was something. Maybe a sign that they could get through this, that maybe they could work together long enough to get Thor back alive and protect this world and Asgard and Earth from the Mechasms.

Maybe.

She hoped.

 


	27. Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We need a plan of attack.”  
> “I have a plan: Attack.”  
> - _The Avengers_

Wood creaked and groaned as Amalia’s vines lifted the entire floor of Loki’s lab’s balcony - runic circle, portal device, and all - and carried it through the portal in front of the lab doors. The vines shifted and bobbed as, on the other side of the portal, Phaeris, Tristepin, and Ragnvaldr steered the platform to a hopefully safe landing. Loki bit the inside of his cheek and willed himself not to fidget; he couldn’t be in both places at once no matter how much he wanted to be, and he’d determined that the lifting of the platform was the more risky end of the transfer.

Finally the vines went still, and Amalia stood up from where she’d been crouched at the top of the stairs. Green Sadida magic faded from her hands as she let the vines solidify enough that she could walk across them to enter the portal herself. Princess she might be, but her father had long since realized the futility of trying to keep her home and safe - she preferred to serve her kingdom by fighting to protect it. She paused halfway through the portal, leaning back to grin at Loki, Jahanna, and Yugo ( _mostly Yugo, and Loki hid a grin of his own at the way Yugo blushed when he noticed_ ). “Coming?” Amalia asked brightly, then disappeared into the portal.

Yugo raised his eyebrows at Jahanna over the Eliacube, eagerness all over his face. They sat facing each other across the stairwell, the Eliacube hovering between them, blue wakfu flowing between it and their outstretched hands. On the other side of the portal, Adamaï and Tikalukatal would be similarly arranged, anchoring their end of it on Oma Island. Everyone else had already passed through: the Avengers suspicious and trying not to look it, Tristepin eager for and Evangelyne and Ruel wary of the fight that was to come, Jane Foster and the servant boy Ragnvaldr looking nervous together, as if they weren’t quite sure of their place in this gathering. At least Remington and Grany Smisse had departed already, with a brief but sincere thank-you to Loki and a flippant comment from Remington to Evangelyne that had nearly got him stabbed by Tristepin.

“Go,” Jahanna told Yugo with a smile. The boy grinned and took off for the portal, laughter trailing behind him.

Loki offered Jahanna his arm to stand; she pulled herself to her feet awkwardly, the Eliacube settling on her shoulder. The portal was shrinking now that Yugo and Adamaï weren’t supporting it any more, and Loki scooped Jahanna into his arms so he could carry her across the vines before it closed.

They came through in time to hear Yugo say, “ _Whoa_ ,” his voice awed. Loki spotted him a few paces away along the sandy Oma Island beach, looking up at something above them. Turning, Loki saw twin mountains towering overhead, their tops jagged crowns, with silver-black lines of cooled lava tracing down their sides. Volcanoes, both of them, and nowhere near dormant.

“It’s probably from when Grougaloragran fought Nox,” Adamaï said reverently, crossing the sand to stand next to his brother. “He used to make the ground shake when he roared just to scare off ships.”

“Gr—Groug—” Captain Rogers tried, then stopped, thwarted. “Who?” He stood with the rest of the Avengers in a small cluster near where Phaeris, Tristepin, and Ragnvalder were setting up the portal device’s platform, on a level stretch of beach about halfway between the ocean and the tree line. Stark was fiddling with his armor, apparently uninterested in the scenery, while Banner was talking quietly to Jane and gesturing at the portal device while she scribbled notes on a pad of paper. Agent Romanoff stood with her arms folded, and if she looked even less interested than Stark, Loki knew it to be only a mask. Beside her, peering up at the volcanoes and doing his best to ignore Loki, was Agent Barton. Loki was relieved to see that he had the Cra-style bow strapped to his belt. He had hoped to make the giving of it much more subtle - perhaps sent along with Thor with no mentions of its origins - but needs must, and Ush Galesh had forced his hand. Still, that Barton had taken it was a good sign - perhaps the Avengers could set aside old grudges long enough for Loki to get everyone through this alive.

“Grougaloragran,” Adamaï repeated to Rogers. “He’s the dragon who raised me.”

“You met his twin brother Chibi the other day,” Amalia added. “Grougal died fighting Nox—”

“—but hatched again after we defeated Nox and his army,” Yugo said.

The captain nodded. “There’s signs of a fight all over the place,” he said. “Is that why you chose it? Because the dragons can use the volcanoes as offensive weapons?”

“It might be useful,” Loki admitted as he set Jahanna gently on her feet, “but it’s more to do with how far away we are from anyone. Should the Mechasms reach us, I’d prefer no human settlements be in the line of fire.”

“Are you _expecting_ the Mechasms to reach us?” Stark asked. “I don’t think that would end well. For us. Or, y’know. The rest of the world.”

“Expecting, no,” Loki said. He waved to the others where they’d spread out along the beach, and they began drifting back. “But it’s best to prepare for the unexpected.”

He took a breath, looking pointedly away from the Avengers to survey the rest of the group as they arranged themselves in a semicircle around him. The Brotherhood of Tofu standing together, unconsciously mirroring the Avengers. Phaeris and Tikalukatal, inscrutable and grim. Jane pausing from sharing her notes with Ragnvaldr. They were all looking at him, and suddenly Loki had to fight back a wild urge to veil himself, to slip away from the attention, the responsibility, the sick clawing madness that came with the weight of the world falling on his shoulders once again.

Jahanna laced her fingers through Loki’s, their hands hidden by the drape of her dress and the curve of her belly, and squeezed. He squeezed back, grateful for the support. He couldn’t afford panic, nor madness - not now.  Whether or not Thor yet lived, Loki would need all his strength, all his cunning, to get the world through this intact.

“So,” Captain Rogers said. “What’s the plan?” There was an edge to his voice, and Loki remembered Stark’s complaint about being left in the dark.

He shoved down the fear, the urge to run. Met the captain’s gaze and smiled coolly. “Broadly speaking, the plan is to intimidate the Mechasms such that they understand that the Eliatropes are no longer a safe target for their wrath.”

“Oh, sure,” Barton muttered, just loud enough to hear. “Intimidate the guys everyone’s shit-your-pants terrified of, that’ll work great.”

Loki fought the urge to roll his eyes; it would not help the trust issue should he appear too haughty. “The other option is genocide,” he pointed out instead, “as according to Phaeris and Baltazar, the Mechasms were never interested in parlay, and we cannot win a conventional war, or even probably a single battle. It would be simple enough to alter the parameters of the spell.” He gave them a thin smile. “But I doubt such a course of action would pass a majority vote.”

Rogers’ eyes narrowed for a moment, clearly wondering if there was anything else to it, but in truth Loki had learned his lesson with Jotunheim and the Bifrost. Even if the Mechasms were truly the monsters he’d once believed the Jotun to be, not only would the slaughter of an entire race prove offensive to the sensibilities of warm-hearted heroes like Rogers and Yugo, it was also not what Thor would want.

It was the least Loki could do for his brother.

Finally Rogers nodded, and Loki continued, “So. Intimidation it is. To do so, we must make clear to the Mechasms that not only can this world hold its own should they attack now, but also that it will continue to be able to do so, for as long as the Mechasms choose to hold a grudge. To that end, our attack is simple: we take hostage the Mechasms’ ships.”

He gestured, drawing a shimmering illusion in the air: a sketchy box meant to represent a Mechasm ship, a tiny world far below it with the portal device jutting from its surface. “The spell, and its means of sabotage, are based on work performed by Qilby prior to the Mechasms’ first attack. Qilby’s original spell allowed him to temporarily disable their ships’ power sources, making it appear as if the power sources had run dry. However, I was able to reverse the spell’s function, so that it will overload the power source instead - and spread the overload to any other nearby power sources.”

He made another gesture, and twin blue circles opened beside the portal device and on the ship. “We’ll need to board one of their ships, so that I may arrange the placement of the final spell components. According to the dragons’ recollection, as well as Qilby’s notes, the Mechasms maintain a large fleet, spread out across the Krosmos; we’ll use the Sram mask to target the ship which took Thor. Once the components are in place, we return to the world and activate the spell with Ms. Foster’s device, destroying the ship’s power sources.” He gestured once more, and the portal device flared. A beam of red light shot from it to connect to the ship, turning it red. “This will disable their ship at a minimum, allowing us to divert it into the nearest star; it may also destroy the ship entirely.” The illusory ship exploded in a bright flash of red and orange. “The Mechasms are sure to respond to this, at which point we can make clear their options: they leave and never bother this world, or any other, again - or we destroy their entire fleet.”

“So how is this sustainable?” Stark asked. “I mean, if you have to physically be on their ship to sabotage it, then all they have to do is keep you from getting on their ships—”

“The Mechasms,” Loki answered dryly, “won’t know that. To them, we’ll appear to simply be searching for Thor.”

“Besides,” Yugo added, “we’re Eliatropes. There’s not a lot of places we can’t get to, if we really want to. So if we really have to do it again, we can.”

“Ideally, however, that won’t be necessary,” Loki said. “If we all play our parts, then the Mechasms will be fully convinced that it’s a trivial matter for the Eliatropes to disable or destroy their ships from afar.”

“What about atmospherics?” Stark asked. “My suit’s vaccum-safe, and I figure you and the dragons will be fine. But we have no idea what kind of atmosphere, if any, will be on the Mechasm ship, or whether it’ll be safe for humans.”

“Indeed,” Loki agreed. “Before we depart, I will cast a protective ward on each of you.”

“A ward,” Banner repeated skeptically. “You can do that? Provide air and protection from depressurization?”

“Yeah,” Agent Barton said reluctantly, before Loki could answer. “He can.” His voice was tight, his shoulders hunched, and Loki knew he was remembering how Loki had cast just such a ward on him three years ago during the attack on the Helicarrier.

Captain Rogers frowned at Barton, and Agent Romanoff leaned in just enough to bump his shoulder. Loki said nothing, just waiting, and finally Banner nodded.

“Okay,” Captain Rogers said, and if it was hardly a subtle redirection of attention away from Barton, it was an effective one. “So the Eliatropes open the portal using the Sram mask, the rest of us charge in and make a show of rescuing Thor, you do your sabotage thing, then we skedaddle—”

Stark snorted. “‘Skedaddle’, Cap, really?”

Rogers ignored him. “—and once we’re safely off the ship, you destroy its power source and deliver your ultimatum?”

Loki nodded. “That’s the gist of it, yes.”

Tristepin looked disappointed. “But what about fighting Mechasms?” he asked plaintively.

“I think that happens during the ‘rescue Thor’ part,” Evangelyne told him, and he brightened.

“Indeed,” Loki agreed. He hesitated, just long enough to get their attention. “And… it’s possible that they’ll attempt to launch an attack while we have their ship hostage. We know too little about the Mechasms’ capabilities; this method is only guaranteed to destroy the ship’s power sources. If they have other means of transporting themselves—”

“—it’d mean this whole plan’s for nothing,” Stark said. “By ‘other means of transporting themselves’, I’m guessing you mean something like your Bifrost, or the Eliatropes’ portals - whatever it was the one that took Thor used to beam down to Asgard?”

Loki nodded, but let Jahanna answer: “We know that there was some exchange of technology between the Eliatropes and the Mechasms prior to the war,” she explained. “What we don’t know is whether that technology relies on the same power source as their ships, which is what we’re disabling, or whether it has any other limiting factors, like distance.”

“What about…” Stark hesitated, glancing at Loki. “That, uh, shield you mentioned? In Emrub? Won’t that still keep them from finding us?”

“That’s the hope,” Loki said grimly.

“What shield?” Agent Romanoff asked, frowning.

“Nora, sister to Efrim, sacrificed herself in the last great battle between the Eliatropes and the Mechasm Orgonax,” Phaeris answered. “Her wakfu became a shield which has kept the rest of the Mechasms from finding this world.”

Romanoff nodded, looking thoughtful, but Captain Rogers shook his head. “I don’t like it,” he said flatly. “No offense, Loki, but this plan has more holes than Swiss cheese.”

“Yeah, it’s not exactly up to your usual standards,” Barton sniped.

“Then by all means, suggest a better option,” Loki shot back. He waited, letting the silence stretch, and finally Rogers clenched his jaw and looked away.

His point made, Loki dismissed the illusion with a wave of his hand. “If there are no further questions,” he said, and managed to make his voice authoritarian, “we’ll get started.”


	28. Lion’s Den

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Bon, et maintenant? On va où?”_  
>  _“Quelque part par là… Je crois.”_  
>  -Wakfu S2E9, “Le Monde de Rushu”

Loki managed to arrange his circuit of the group so that he came to Stark last, after the others had drifted away to perform any last-minute preparations before Jahanna and Adamaï opened the portal to the Mechasm ship. Stark, helmet on but faceplate raised, was still fiddling with his armor, evidently having an argument with his artificial familiar: “—not how it’s supposed to behave, adjust the resistance, see if you can get it back in line with spec.” He looked up at Loki and flashed one of those completely insincere smiles. “I’ll be fine,” he said. “I’ve got the suit—”

“And if it fails?” Loki interrupted. “Or the Mechasms damage it too badly?”

Stark winced. “Look,” he began, gesturing awkwardly with one hand. “I—My suit...”

Loki smiled thinly. He could guess all too easily what Stark was about to say; Sif and the Three and most other Aesir soldiers had made similar protests whenever Loki had offered his magic as aid: _My weapon and my armor are trustworthy. Magic is not_.

But to Loki’s surprise, Stark closed his mouth over the protest. He took a deep breath, spreading his arms. “Go for it,” he said.

Loki realized that he was staring at Stark in open shock; with effort, he got his expression under control. “Thank you,” he said, but he didn’t think he quite managed the sarcastic tone he’d intended. Fortunately, Stark didn’t comment further, and Loki set to casting.

Stark fidgeted the whole time, and Loki could only hope that the man’s restlessness distracted him from the fact that Loki took rather longer to cast the ward on him than the others. He was prepared to explain that he was taking extra care to avoid interference with Stark’s suit, but that excuse sounded flimsy even to his own ears. At least no one else seemed to be paying close attention; they were all too busy checking over their weapons and discussing marching order and tactics. Finally Loki finished the ward, and the secondary spell he’d slipped alongside it, sealing them with a sigil traced with a finger on the arc reactor embedded in Stark’s suit.

When he looked up, Stark was frowning at him, something dangerously close to suspicion in his eyes. Loki licked his lips, letting some of his nervousness show through and hunching his shoulders a bit in the way he knew made him look young and shy. He flicked a glance to either side, making sure no one else was in earshot - he definitely had Stark’s attention now - and said quietly, “I would ask a favor of you, Tony Stark.”

“A favor,” Stark repeated. He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You. Are asking me. For a favor.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Yes, though I would prefer not to.”

“Okay,” Stark said. “Not promising anything, but what do you want?”

Loki summoned Qilby’s dictation crystal, the one which held his notes on his work to steal a Mechasm power source, to his hand and held it out. “Keep this until the Mechasms have been defeated.”

Stark squinted at it. “What is it?”

“Qilby’s notes,” Loki explained. “He has much to say about the spell for disabling the Mechasms’ power sources. I think it would be best if...” He flexed his hands, shifted his weight. _Don’t overdo it_ , he chided himself. “If someone else had the information. Jahanna and Yugo both know how the disruption spell works, but should things go badly, your people will need to know as well.”

“You say that like you’re expecting things to ‘go badly’,” Stark said.

“You saw what one Mechasm is capable of,” Loki pointed out. “We are about to go to a nest of them.”

“Yeah,” Stark agreed. “I’ve also see what you’re capable of, and your friends. And I know what my team can do.”

“If you have the first idea what I’m capable of,” Loki said dryly, “then you know that I am so because I prepare for the worst.” He held out the crystal again.

Stark stared at him for a long minute, suspicion and doubt - and perhaps something else - in his dark eyes. Finally he nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll bite.” He half-raised a hand, then hesitated, face screwing up in discomfort. Loki felt a sharp flash of insult before a memory surfaced: watching from beneath a veil in a SHIELD laboratory as Banner told Jane, _He doesn’t like being handed things_.

Loki let go of the crystal, a touch of willpower keeping it suspended in midair, and deliberately dropped his hands away. Stark looked up at him, startled, then snorted, clearly exasperated with himself. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “It’s not personal, it’s… a thing, it’s weird, I know.” He plucked the crystal from the air, and the iron suit whirred softly as panels slid aside to allow him to deposit it in a pocket. Then he looked up and met Loki’s eyes. “Now let’s go rescue Thor.”

*             *             *

The portal spun to life beside Jahanna and Adamaï where they sat facing each other on the beach, a little ways away from Jane’s machine. From what Tony had overheard, they’d been chosen to open and maintain the portal in part because of Jahanna’s skill with long-distance portals, and in part because they each had a twin to send to the other side, which would not only help them keep the portal stable, but also make it easier to reopen the portal when it was time to leave. Adamaï hadn’t been happy about the arrangement, but Yugo had pointed out that it also meant that Loki was trusting Adamaï with Jahanna’s life, if things went to hell and any Mechasms got through the portal.

Adamaï had accepted that, reluctantly, though he still looked disgruntled even as he concentrated on the portal. Jahanna was wearing the Sram mask; it left her face eerily blank and unreadable. The two Eliacubes hovered between them, orbiting each other lazily, and brilliant blue lines of energy reached out from them to halo Jahanna and Adamaï both. The portal itself was one of the big ones Tony remembered Jahanna making during the Infinity War, with edges that faded to black instead of white, and complex spiral patterns laced through its center. He could hear it even through the suit’s helmet, a strange electric hum at the back of his mind, and even as he listened he heard a deep distant boom, like a heartbeat, like a massive clock ticking somewhere in the center of the universe.

The dragons Tikalukatal and Phaeris stepped through the portal; they’d been chosen to go first because even with Loki’s wards and Tony’s suit, they were the least likely to be harmed by anything on the Mechasm ship that wasn’t the Mechasms themselves. Several long awful seconds passed, during which Tony imagined all sorts of terrible things: the portal had failed, the portal had gone somewhere even a dragon couldn’t survive, the Mechasms had been waiting for them.

Then Phaeris leaned out of the portal. “It is safe enough,” he said grimly, then disappeared back through it.

“Let’s go,” Steve said.

They formed up around him. Tony was in the front, along with Loki and Bruce - they were the next most likely to survive whatever was on the other side of the portal - while Tristepin and Evangelyne guarded the rear, and everyone else clustered in the center. Tony had half-expected that the hotblooded Tristepin would ignore directions in favor of charging straight ahead, but Tristepin had said something about dungeon crawls and listening to the leader, and elbowed Evangelyne and Amalia while they managed to look both exasperated and embarrassed. Maybe later Tony could get him to tell what was clearly an awesome story, because anything that could make tight-laced Evangelyne look that embarrassed had to be good. But now the portal was right in front of him, and Tony swallowed hard and stepped through.

He couldn’t have said what, exactly, he was expecting to see on the other side. Silvery spaceships like from _Star Wars_ , maybe, or the big blocky cubes of the Borg. What he saw instead was… darkness, mostly. Jarvis switched the HUD to nightvision-augment, drawing in enough light for Tony to see that they were in a wide hall or aisle, with huge round columns or vats or something forming the walls and a high ceiling invisible in the dark. Faint lines of red, purple, and orange light traced right-angled patterns along the floor and up the sides of the vats, seemingly at random. At least it was enough like the orange patterns on both the Mechasm sphere and the Mechasm that had kidnapped Thor that Tony was pretty sure they were in the right place.

The only other light was the dim glow of the portal behind them - then, a moment later, a soft flare of orange light as Loki summoned a glowing ball of magic to hover over their heads. The rest of the group was filing through the portal now, weapons ready, stances wary as they took in the strange surroundings. The place was eerily silent, except for the soft sounds of their movement and, Tony realized suddenly, the same deep slow pulse he’d heard on the other side of the portal. The sound wasn’t caused by the portal, like he’d thought - it was coming from somewhere in the Mechasm ship itself.

The light from the portal faded as it swirled shut; a moment later, another floaty magic light flickered into existence, this one over Yugo’s head. It shed enough light for Tony to see Steve signalling his team to follow him. The plan they’d hashed out was to split into two groups, one to create a distraction and one to look for Thor. Jahanna had said that the further away a portal was opened, the less precise its location would be, which meant that while they’d ( _hoped_ ) been reasonably sure that they’d at least end up on the Mechasm ship where Thor was being kept prisoner, they had no idea where they’d be relative to Thor. So Steve would take the toughest and loudest fighters - Bruce, Tristepin, Amalia, Evangelyne, Yugo, Ruel, and Tikalukatal - as well as Agent Barton, in a concession to how bad an idea it would be to ask him to take orders from Loki again, and go make as much noise as they could. Meanwhile, Loki, Natasha, Phaeris, and Tony would sneak around until they found Thor and Loki had done whatever he needed to do to finish preparing the sabotage device.

Steve had originally included Tony in his own group, but Tony had spouted some technobabble at him about possibly needing the suit or Tony’s intellect to bypass any Mechasm tech. Bruce had given him a look and Tony knew he’d recognized the BS for what it was, but Bruce also apparently remembered their conversation in Bonta about Loki, because he hadn’t said anything. Truth was, Tony wasn’t actually a hundred percent sure they’d find Thor alive; Loki’s point about the Mechasms not needing prisoners was a valid one. With Jahanna back on the World of Twelve and Tikalukatal with Steve’s group, Tony wasn’t about to let Loki face that possibility without some kind of emotional backup.

...and since when had Tony’s life come to providing emotional support for the formerly mad supervillain who’d thrown him off Stark Tower and started a war on two different worlds. Fuck.

Tony shook his head. _Focus_. Steve was already slipping away into the darkness, his team close on his heels. Flanked by Natasha and Phaeris, Loki stared at nothing, mouth moving slightly as he cast the spell that should ( _please let it work_ ) lead them to Thor. Tony had seen him use the locating spell during the Infinity War, and knew it produced no visible results, so he bit his lip and made himself wait. Then Loki’s head came up sharply, eyes tracking an invisible line away into the depths of the ship.

“It worked?” Tony demanded.

Loki swallowed. “It found… _something_ ,” he said, and God, it was painful to watch how hard he was trying not to look terrified of what they would find, how hard he was trying not to hope.

“Good,” Natasha said coolly, before Tony could say anything. “Let’s go.”

Loki nodded, his expression going neutral once more, and struck out between two of the big pillars-vats-whatevers lining the walkway. Tony suspected they were in an engine or machinery room of some sort; aside from the big pillars, there were occasional smaller pipes and tubing running between them, and the zigzag lights pulsed and flowed in a way that remineded him of a slow-motion circuit diagram. The floor and the pillars alike were made of a dark grey metal, and while Loki, Natasha, and Phaeris seemed to have no trouble moving silently, Tony had to concentrate on walking slow and light enough that his boots didn’t clank. At least this suit was one of the rubber-soled models - if it wasn’t, he’d have been making enough of a racket to wake up the whole ship.

Although, speaking of… “Shouldn’t they have noticed us by now?” Tony asked quietly. “I mean, if they’re so keyed up to fight Eliatropes, you’d think they’d notice when an Eliatrope portal opened in the middle of their ship.”

“What makes you think they have not?” Phaeris said. His blue eyes were bright in the dimness as he turned his head, scanning for threats. They were still surrounded by the huge pillars, and the narrow spaces between them - too narrow to fit a Mechasm - were full of shadows flickering in the dim orange light.

Tony waved a hand vaguely. “It’s too quiet,” he said. “No alarms, no shouting…”

“They may not need any,” Natasha said. “Or they may not want to give us any warning.”

“That’s reassuring,” Tony muttered. Phaeris glanced at him, one corner of his mouth curling in a faint smile.

Tony had his mouth open to ask Loki if he had any idea how far they were from whatever the spell had found, when the distant but unmistakeable sound of an explosion shattered the silence. It was followed a moment later by the even more unmistakeable sound of the Hulk roaring a challenge, and Tony winced. Natasha cocked an eyebrow at him as if to say _That answer your question?_

“Move quickly,” Phaeris said. “The longer our companions must fight, the greater their danger.”

Loki nodded, eyes still a little unfocused as he concentrated on his tracking spell, but he sped up. They followed him out of the forest of pillars to an actual wall lined with pipes and ducts and vents; Phaeris ripped the cover off one and they climbed inside. There was at least one minor advantage to the Mechasms being so massive: they built their ships on an equally large scale, so it wasn’t too difficult to move around inside the vents. Tony could tell Loki’s spell was working - the suit’s sensors registered superheated low-oxygen air in one duct, poisonous gas in another, but even the completely human Natasha seemed totally unaffected.

They could hear the Mechasms now, heavy clanking footsteps that shook the walls, snatches of conversation in deep metal voices, and once when Tony was passing a vent, he spotted two of them walking right past. He couldn’t see much, just a jumble of movement, enormous dark metal limbs shot through with orange and purple light, but it was all too clear what they were. Worse, this pair was horrifically massive, half again as big as the one that had kidnapped Thor, bigger even than Tikalukatal in dragon form. Tony froze, abruptly aware of how tiny he and the others were by comparison, how exposed they were in the ducts, that if either Mechasm happened to glance into the vent, they’d see him - but in an instant they were gone again, down the hall and out of sight.

It was a few seconds before Tony’s heart started beating again, before he could tear his eyes away from the vent and move forward to catch up with the others. Phaeris was watching him, glowing eyes almost sympathetic. “Phaeris remembers his first glimpse of the Mechasm Orgonax,” he said softly, “though it was an age ago.”

“The one on Asgard was smaller,” Tony said. His voice came out more or less normal, which was surprising.

“Phaeris knows little about their biology, such as it is,” the dragon admitted. “He has lived several lives since they destroyed our home, and unlike Qilby and Shinonome, does not remember.”

“Are they even biological?” Tony asked. “They looked like they were made of metal.”

“Science later,” Natasha cut them off. “Right now all we care about is how to hide from them.”

“And how to kill them,” Loki added. There was a grim note to his voice that Tony didn’t like, and he’d stopped walking. A moment later Tony realized why: the duct they were in dead-ended just up ahead at another vent. Loki stood slightly back from it, head tilted to see through the vent, frowning. They drew up beside him, following his gaze into the room below.

It was relatively small by Mechasm standards: little more than an alcove at the end of a hall, not much bigger than the two Mechasms it held. They stood to either side of a massive door shot through with red light and etched with odd symbols, clearly guarding it. They were the same size as the two Tony had seen earlier, and built to roughly the same proportions as the one who’d kidnapped Thor: oversized chests and shoulders with thick sturdy arms, too-narrow waists, and short slim legs. They both had odd, apparently decorative attachments studding their bodies: etched plates on one, jutting bolts and washers on the other. Their heads were almost comically small, sitting forward a bit on their massive shoulders so that they looked almost hunchbacked, but their glowing purple eyes kept watch over the hall with unblinking intensity.

“That’s… not good,” Tony whispered. “I guess that’s our way forward?”

Loki nodded. “Straight through that door.”

“Oh,” Tony said, and swallowed. “Well, crap.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Off we go on another multi-chapter arc! 
> 
> Also, I finally found a complete Let's Play for [Islands of Wakfu](http://youtu.be/JHWKLF7PmNc), with an actual shot of the Mechasm Orgonax (around 19:25). He looks quite a bit different than the Mechasms shown in Wakfu proper; it's hard to say whether it's an art style difference, a subtle reference to Qilby's lies, or just that Orgonax is special. The size differences, at least, are consistent with how the Mechasms are shown in the show. I think I was vague enough describing the first one that I can still hybridize the two styles, but if it comes across as weird, please let me know!


	29. Phaeris the Powerful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Phaéris sait que c’est douloureux, mais il n’a pas le temps de t’expliquer."_  
>  -Wakfu S2E24, “Phaéris le Puissant”

“Oh,” Tony said, and swallowed. “Well, crap.”

“Can we go around?” Natasha asked, although her expression suggested she already knew the answer.

Loki shook his head. “As far as my magic can tell, all the ducts end here, or turn away.”

“Makes sense,” Tony admitted. “I’ve been tracking the atmospheric quality, and nothing out here’s capable of supporting humans. If they’re keeping non-Mechasm prisoners, they’d need a completely separate circulation system.”

“We could perhaps search for a way through, but it would take too long,” Loki said. “Our companions can only survive so long.”

“If they’re not dead already,” Natasha muttered.

Tony glared at her, but Phaeris said, “Phaeris has felt no deaths yet. Do not succumb to despair.” Natasha didn’t answer, just pressed her lips together and looked back out the vent at the Mechasms below.

“So how _do_ we kill them?” Tony asked.

“We do not,” Phaeris said, and lifted his chin. “Phaeris will distract them.”

“Phaeris—” Loki said sharply.

“You must be quick,” Phaeris continued, ignoring him. “Phaeris can draw them off, but they will soon realize he is only a distraction, and will return for you.”

“How do we get through the door?” Natasha asked.

“Phaeris will handle it,” the dragon answered. He half-turned back along the duct in the direction they’d come. “Be ready.”

Loki stared at Phaeris for a long minute, green eyes unreadable; Tony wondered if they were speaking telepathically, the way he was pretty sure Tikalukatal sometimes did. Then Loki nodded once, solemn, and Phaeris turned away, disappearing into the shadows of the duct.

Loki turned back to the vent, jaw set and shoulders stiff. “He’ll be fine,” Tony said. “We go in, bust Thor out, and get back before the Mechasms know what hit ‘em.”

“Indeed,” Loki agreed, and, okay, fine, apparently they were going to pretend he wasn't at all concerned. He inched forward, preparing to jump out through the slats in the vent. It was a good sixty-foot drop or more, but that didn’t seem to bother him. Tony eyed the angle, decided it would work, and offered his arm to Natasha with a courtly little bow. She gave him an exasperated look, but took the hint and stepped closer.

They didn’t have to wait long: the Mechasms outside perked up suddenly, purple eyes fixing on something further down the hallway. Then Phaeris roared, loud enough to rattle the walls and make Natasha wince, and a massive ball of molten fire struck one of the Mechasms in the shoulder. A second ball followed a moment later, but missed as the Mechasm reeled, instead slamming into the door behind it. Metal hissed and groaned as it melted, leaving behind a hole big enough to drive a Humvee through.

The Mechasms didn’t appear to notice - they just took off down the hall, out of sight of the vent. Tony could hear Phaeris shouting something, the Mechasms shouting back, but he didn’t pay much attention because Natasha had wrapped her arms around his neck and he had to squirm through the vent slats without dislodging her. Loki had already jumped down, landing in a crouch on the floor far below and pushing up to run over to the door. Tony flew straight to the hole, about thirty feet up from the floor and still hot enough that the metal was dripping.

“Natasha?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Loki—”

“Go,” Loki said from below. “And clear the way.”

Tony didn’t question him; they didn’t have time for arguing. A quick glance at the HUD’s rear camera showed him that Phaeris, in full dragon form, was kiting the Mechasms further down the hall - but he already had a burn mark along one wing where a Mechasm shot had clipped him. They needed to move fast. Tony flew through the hole in the door, noticed in passing that the suit’s external sensors registered temperatures well over six thousand degrees. Loki’d been right about needing the extra magic protection.

He’d just cleared the hole, flying up a little to survey the area beyond, when Loki dove through, body in a perfect line and sailing through the hole with room to spare on all sides. The guy was skilled - Tony had seen less graceful cats. Loki hit the ground, rolled, and came to his feet, his scepter appearing in one hand as he looked around.

There wasn’t much to see on this side of the door - no Mechasms, at least. Just a long hallway stretching out in front of them, lined with blank doors on either side. In fact, it looked more or less like a scaled-up version of every spaceship brig in every B-movie Tony’d seen, except that while most of the doors were proportioned for Mechasms, there was also one section of much smaller doors not far down the hall, maybe eight by ten feet each and stacked on top of one another like gym lockers.

“Up there,” Loki said, pointing toward the top of the stack of lockers. Tony started to ask if Loki needed a hand up, but he was already moving forward. He climbed the lockers easily, finding hand- and toe-holds on the latches and in the miniscule seams between the doors, pausing once to look over his shoulder at them. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been on such a quest,” he said pointedly. “I was delving the caves of the svartalves before your grandfather’s grandfather was a thought in _his_ father’s head.”

“Wow,” Tony said. “And here you don’t look a day past two hundred.” He jetted up to the locker Loki was angling toward, trying not to listen too closely to the sounds of fighting coming from the previous hall, to Phaeris’s cry of pain and a Mechasm’s howl. “So, old man, any idea how to open it?”

Loki came to a stop just below the door, leaning back to peer up at the locking mechanism. It was some kind of turn latch, sized for Mechasm fingers, and Tony wasn’t sure if there was an actual needs-a-key lock involved, or if it was just designed to be opened from the outside only, with hands the size of semi trucks. Either way, it would be damn near impossible to open - even with Loki’s alien strength, none of them had the leverage to turn the massive latch. Natasha pulled herself higher on Tony’s shoulders so she could look at the lock, too; after a moment she said, “I’ve got this one.” She fiddled with her wristlets, producing something small and black that beeped when she pushed a switch on the side. At her direction, Tony flew close enough that she could stick the thing to the door under the latch, where the bolt would be, then backed up hurriedly.

The explosion was little more than a muffled _whump_ , but when the smoke cleared Tony could see that the metal around the latch had been warped and twisted. Knowing Natasha, the explosive was probably meant for breaking through security doors, but it had done a decent job of punching through the Mechasm metal as well. A godawful wailing siren, like the demented love child of a raptor’s shriek and nails on a blackboard, started up, and the three of them traded uneasy looks. The Mechasms knew now that a prison break was happening - they’d have to hurry. Loki scrambled up to grab one of the bent edges, braced himself against the wall beside the door, and peeled the metal back enough to clamber through. Tony followed close on his heels, landing inside and letting Natasha down just as Loki collapsed to his knees.

The cell was spartan - a hole in one corner probably meant for waste, and a board bolted to the wall for sleeping. A man lay on the bed, unconscious, but it wasn’t Thor: it was a small, grizzled old man wearing worn and tattered leather armor and a fox-eared Eliatrope hat. Tony’s heart sank, and he saw Natasha bite her lip. _Not Thor_. Loki looked like someone had hit him in the gut.

“Look again,” Natasha said suddenly, almost inaudible under the still-shrieking alarm. Tony blinked at her, and after a moment, Loki did too. But she just set her jaw. Tony hadn’t thought she was particularly close to Thor; they hadn’t interacted much outside official Avengers business. But clearly she wasn’t willing to give up on him yet, either. “Look again,” she repeated.

Tony swallowed. _Right._ He didn’t know what Loki’s tracking spell had been looking for, if he’d focused on Thor specifically or just the idea of a prisoner or what, but it was worth a shot. Loki nodded shakily, eyes going vague as he did whatever it was that made his spell work—

—and made an odd little choking noise before he caught himself and raised a hand to point at the wall behind the Eliatrope.

“Good,” Tony said. “Okay, good. We were just off by a cell or two, no big, it happens. Loki, see if you can get this guy out of here. Natasha and I’ll get Thor.”

Loki nodded, already pushing himself to his feet. “Yes.” He scooped the unconscious Eliatrope off the bed and made for the door.

Natasha pulled a couple more explosives off her wristlet and handed them to Tony. “Here, you’ll have an easier time if you’re not carrying me, too.” Tony nodded, opened his mouth to ask how she was going to get down, then stopped when she pulled yet another gadget from her belt: a rappel gun. She quirked a smile at him. “I can handle myself.”

“Never said you couldn’t,” Tony agreed. She shot the rappel bolt into the wall beside the blasted-open door and jumped out, and Tony flew out just behind her. He could still hear fighting in the outer hall; more distant now, or perhaps just more subdued, and only one of those was good. It took only a few seconds to use one of the explosives to blast open the next door. He knew Natasha had given him several because Thor could be in any of the cells on this row - from what Tony could tell, at ground level Loki’s tracking line had pointed through all of them - but he hoped the Mechasms were lazy like humans and had kept their prisoners close together.

He wasn’t disappointed: when he’d peeled back the broken metal enough to climb through, he spotted Thor lying exactly as the Eliatrope man had. This cell was the mirror image of the other one, meaning Thor and the Eliatrope had been separated by only the width of the wall; it was no wonder Loki’d got the wrong cell on the first try. Thor was still wearing his usual half-armor, the blue and silver body leathers but without the metal plating covering his arms or his vitals. He didn’t look injured, but he’d stayed unconscious through two explosions within ten feet of him, plus that freaking siren, so Tony doubted he could wake him up. He hauled Thor over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry, grateful for the suit’s added strength. He worked out - he had to, to keep up with the other Avengers when he didn’t have the suit - but Thor was a big guy and it was no small trick maneuvering him through the torn door and out of the cell.

Still, they’d found Thor, and he was alive. Now they just had to get off this damn ship before anyone died.

*             *             *

Loki felt as though his heart beat properly for the first time in days when Stark flew down from the cells with Thor over his shoulders. Loki had laid out the Eliatrope man on the floor for Agent Romanoff to check over; now he hurried to meet Stark and pull Thor into his own arms. His brother was limp, breathing shallowly, and his closed eyes were ringed with dark bruising. But he was _alive_ , and that was all that mattered. Anything else, they could deal with later.

Moreover, Thor being alive meant that there was more hope for the next part of Loki’s plan. It had always been a long shot - they simply knew too little about the Mechasms, and Loki’s plan had been based off guesswork and hope far more than he liked - but if the Mechasms had kept alive a prisoner they would have had no use for, then they certainly ought to keep alive one they did have a use for.

The ground shook beneath their feet suddenly, a deep _whump_ of impact rattling through the ship. “We need to move,” Agent Romanoff said from behind him.

Loki turned to see that Stark had lifted the Eliatrope in his arms, and Romanoff had wrapped her arms around his neck again. “I’ll carry them through,” Stark said, gesturing with his chin to the hole in the door, “then come back for Thor.”

Loki almost protested, but snapped his mouth shut. Overprotectiveness would do Thor no good - Loki couldn’t easily get back out through the hole in the door carrying him, and in any case, Loki needed to stop acting like a child, lost without his older brother nearby. He could be relieved later, when Thor was conscious enough to be annoyed by the fussing. Loki waited tensely as Stark vanished through the hole; kept one hand on Thor’s chest to reassure himself that he was still breathing. He could hear the sounds of fighting outside: the eerie cry of a Mechasm in pain, the crack-snap of their weapons firing, Phaeris roaring.

Stark reappeared a minute later, touching down lightly beside them as Loki hauled Thor up. “Phaeris is holding the Mechasms at the corner,” Stark said grimly. “Let’s hurry.” He dragged Thor over his shoulders again and took off through the hole; Loki backed up, ran, and leaped through right behind him.

He caught a glimpse of the fight in the moment before he had to duck and roll for landing: Phaeris reared up on his back legs, facing away down the hall, shredded wings spread wide and glowing with wakfu-lit blood. Beyond him, a glimpse of metal gray and electric purple, a flash of red light. Loki hit the ground and rolled to his feet just as Phaeris bobbed his head, a Mechasm blast missing his neck by inches. “ _Phaeris_!” he shouted.

Overhead, Stark was nearly to the vent they’d come from, Thor still safely over his shoulders. The walls here were too smooth for Loki to climb on his own, sheer flat metal with hardly even a scratch to serve as a hold. He’d have to wait for Stark to get Thor to relative safety in the vent, then come back down for him. But first he needed to convince Phaeris to disengage from the Mechasms and get to safety himself—

Phaeris blasted a column of flame down the hall toward the Mechasms, still mostly hidden by his body and outstretched wings, then with a flash of smoke he shifted to his man’s shape. Even in this form his wings were tattered, covered in glowing blood and burn marks from the Mechasms’ weapons, and the rest of his body was not much better. Loki shouted again, pointing up at the vents - “Go! We’re finished!” - but instead Phaeris flew straight toward Loki.

Loki allowed himself a moment of frustration; he should have expected that. Dragons were exceptionally protective, and of course Phaeris wouldn’t take cover himself when Loki was still exposed. Behind him, one of the two Mechasms recovered from the blast of fire, climbing to its feet and scanning the hall with its bright glowing eyes. Its gaze fixed on Phaeris and it lifted a hand, the weapon in its palm flaring to life.

Phaeris must have seen something in Loki’s expression, because he swerved sharply, the blast flying harmlessly several feet below him. He was nearly to Loki now, and Loki raised an arm for him to grab, though he kept his eyes on the Mechasm. It stepped closer, purple eyes narrowing as it took aim. “Look out!” Loki shouted up to Phaeris, and the dragon swerved again. The blast was close enough this time that Loki felt the heat as it passed overhead. Phaeris’s dodge had made him miss Loki and he swung around sharply, blocking yet another blast with a hastily-summoned shield of wakfu.

Far overhead, Loki saw Stark fly back out of the vent, empty-handed and coming up short as he realized Phaeris was already with Loki. Loki wanted to shout at him to do something, distract the Mechasm, but Phaeris had made it through the barrage to grab Loki’s arm, and Loki had to focus on holding on. Phaeris’s grip was frighteningly weak, and the blood slicking his arm made it even harder. But Stark was smart for a mortal, and sent a swarm of tiny rockets flying toward the Mechasm. Their flash-bang light show distracted it long enough for Phaeris to fly Loki nearly up to the vent, just below where Stark was still hovering in wait.

Then an enormous blast of purple energy flew out of the explosion straight at Loki and Phaeris.

There wasn’t time to dodge. Loki reached frantically for his magic, trying to shape a shield around them, but without the power of the Eliacube at hand he didn’t have nearly the strength to resist such a massive blast. Purple light filled his vision - and then suddenly Phaeris twisted in midair, pulling Loki up and wrapping his own body around him as blue wakfu lines flared along his chest and arms.

For an awful eternity, the world was purple light and pain and Phaeris’s howl of agony. Then it was over, the blast beyond them, and Phaeris’s grip on Loki loosened, the lines of wakfu fading to nothing—

Loki shouted—

Phaeris’s eyes snapped open and he flung Loki toward Stark—

—then his whole body went limp and he plummeted to the ground, smoke streaming from his charred skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it begins...


	30. Farewell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “C’mon, we gotta go. Move with me. Come on. We got a plan, we gotta stick to it.”  
> “This was always the plan, Stark.”  
> - _Iron Man_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need a better way to refer to Tristepin and Rubilax when they're joined. Problem is, I'm pretty sure "Tristelax" is a fan nickname and not something Evangelyne would actually call them...

Evangelyne crouched lower in her hiding spot, listening to Tristepin and Rubilax roar somewhere on the other side of the big room. They’d found some kind of control area, not unlike a massive version of the bridge of Prince Adale’s submarine, except that instead of a corps of young women in uniform manning the controls, there was a pair of Mechasms who had been working the glowing panels and buttons along the walls. Tristepin and Rubilax had gone straight for them, never mind that they were nearly the size of the demon-king Rushu, and Tikalukatal and the Avengers’ green ogre had been close behind.

Everyone else had scattered around the room; there were enough Mechasm-sized panels and pipes and vents to provide plenty of cover. Yugo had told Ruel that he could keep whatever precious metals he managed to scavenge from the ship, so long as they weren’t actively harmful to anything on the planet, which had resulted in half the glowing panels going dark within the first few minutes of their attack. Evangelyne had seen Ruel run past at one point, kama signs in his eyes and strips of thick gold wire in his fists.

Captain Rogers, on the other hand, had found a good hiding spot from which to watch the battle and direct the rest of them over the little earpieces the Avengers had handed out to everyone on Oma. On his instructions, Eva and Agent Barton would fire at the Mechasms to distract them and give the brawlers time to recover their breath or their balance. Barton had taken to his new bow admirably; he hadn’t worked out how to summon the more complex arrows yet but he still had quite a stock left over from his previous bow: explosive arrows, grapple lines, even one that he angled into a Mechasm’s arm joint that sparked and flashed like lightning and rendered the arm limp and useless. Eva took care of the rest: distracting rapid-fire flashes, ice arrows to create slippery patches under the Mechasms’ feet, and once a recall arrow when Tristepin and Rubilax got stuck between the two original Mechasms and a third who’d come running into the room at the commotion.

When he wasn’t directing the rest of them, Rogers was also making use of a Feca’s skills, his shield flying out from hiding to protect the fighters or distract the Mechasms. A few times it was Rogers himself who leaped out to attack directly with his shield, although without the strength of an ogre, shushu, or dragon, his effectiveness was limited. Amalia, whose plant-based powers were of little use on the all-metal ship, had also found a hiding place from which she could send her doll on rescue and diversion missions. Blown up big, the doll made a helpful crash pad when Tikal or the ogre or Tristepin got knocked across the room; it could also get in the Mechasms’ way and generally be a nuisance.

And Yugo… Eva had to admit to herself that Yugo was downright _frightening_. She knew how much he’d been practicing with Jahanna and Loki, knew that Phaeris had taught him some more, but this was the first time she’d seen him really cut loose since the battle on the Crimson Claws. He could hold open four portals at once now, catching and redirecting the Mechasms’ blasts; his own blast beams were considerably stronger; and he flew around the room with dizzying speed, dodging and luring the Mechasms until they were firing on each other in a desperate attempt to hit him.

Yet Eva was starting to worry. They’d done well for the first five minutes or so, with the advantage of being so small and numerous against the hulking Mechasms - but as more Mechasms arrived, they’d started taking hits. Tikalukatal was attacking more cautiously, his wings and one arm scarred with blue wakfu blood. The ogre’s skin was charred black in places, and he had developed a limp. Amalia’s doll had been burnt badly taking a blast aimed at Tristepin and Rubilax while they lay dazed on the floor, and though it had managed to scoop them up and retreat under a rack of shelves, it hadn’t come back out when they did. The rest of them had fallen into something of a holding pattern, staying well under cover and ducking away from the Mechasms. The Mechasms likewise had eased up on their attacks, but Eva didn’t consider that a good thing. A siren had started wailing a minute or two ago, which she feared meant Loki’s group had been found, and now the Mechasms were just waiting for their group to tire themselves out.

“Evangelyne, red corner,” Rogers’ voice snapped over her earpiece, and she leaned out of her hiding spot, sighting on the two Mechasms who’d backed Tikal into the corner full of glowing red panels. Her bow sang in her hands, ice spreading from the arrows’ impact points to hamper the Mechasms’ shoulder joints. Tikal darted free while they shook the ice off, heading for the relative safety of a hole burned into the wall by a Mechasm blast—

—then he came to a dead halt in midair, wakfu-blue eyes wide with horror as he stared into the distance.

From the corner of her eye Eva saw that Yugo, too, had come to an abrupt stop ( _and that was new, too, she’d never seen him just hover like that_ ), staring in the same direction. Eva’s heart froze: Yugo was wearing the same horrified expression Adamaï had had when Grougaloragran died at Nox’s hands. She couldn’t hear him from this far away over the screeching siren and the noise of the fight, but she could see the name on his lips clearly: _Phaeris_.

The Mechasms weren’t about to ignore their enemies’ vulnerability, and one of them grabbed Tikal out of the air before anyone could react. Another went for Yugo, but its fist closed on empty air as blue light flashed. Yugo reappeared from a portal halfway across the room, screaming, “ _Phaeris!_ ”

Tikalukatal roared and the Mechasm holding him howled as he transformed into his full dragon shape, of a size with the Mechasm, his teeth sinking into its shoulder. Captain Rogers was shouting over the earpiece, something about _keep it together_ and _need to focus, we can’t help them if we get killed_ , but Eva barely heard him. She fired a volley of arrows at the Mechasm Tikalukatal was attacking, hitting it twice in one glowing eye and making it cry out.

Another Mechasm made a grab for Yugo, but Yugo’s face twisted with rage and grief and he blasted it back. More portals opened up around the room - three, five, ten, fifteen - blue light flashing as Yugo’s eyes lit with blue-white wakfu. He screamed, and all of the portals flared at once, blasting the same Mechasm Tikalukatal was still tearing into. Its body jerked and shuddered, and black smoke began rising from its joints. The other Mechasms in the room were belatedly moving to help, but Tristepin and the green ogre ran at one’s legs, tripping it; and when Agent Barton fired another electric arrow into the other’s knee joint, Eva followed his lead and iced the ground beneath its feet so that it stumbled and fell as well.

Tikalukatal bucked, wings and shoulders flexing as he tore off the Mechasm’s arm. A toss of his head and the arm went flying, the Mechasm screaming in pain. Tikalukatal lowered his head again, superheated air groaning as yellow light gathered in his mouth - then he spat fire directly into the open wound in the Mechasm’s shoulder. It loosed an awful choking howl and collapsed to the ground, smoke billowing from its limbs as the lines of light covering its body faded and died.

Eva took a deep breath. One down, but the others were already getting back up, and Tikalukatal and Yugo’s grief-induced power bursts wouldn’t last much longer. If Phaeris really was dead, then it was time to retreat.

*             *             *

Loki was only half-aware of Stark catching him by the back of his coat, of the Mechasm shouting in triumph. Phaeris was still falling, his body broken, wakfu faded from his blood, from his eyes, and Loki wanted to yell at Stark _go after him, help him!_ , but he still couldn’t breathe after the blast and the words caught in his throat. Instead Stark flew up and through the vent, dragging Loki behind him and depositing him next to Thor’s unconscious body. Loki rolled to his feet and lunged for the vent, intending to go back out to help Phaeris, but Stark grabbed him around the chest.

“Loki!” he shouted. “Loki, _stop_! He’s gone, I’m sorry, he’s gone—”

Loki growled in frustration and yanked free, shoving Stark into the side of the duct with a clang. But when Loki turned back to the vent, Agent Romanoff was standing in front of it, blocking his way. He hissed out a breath through his teeth - she was mortal, no real obstruction to him - but she said coolly, “You can’t help Thor if you get killed trying to help a dead man.”

 _No_.

Loki licked his lips. He could feel magic sparking around his fists, useless impotent power, but she was right. Phaeris’s life force was gone - he’d sacrificed himself to save Loki’s life, and all Loki could think was that the trade was not worth it. Phaeris was a dragon, loyal and noble and kind, and Loki was a liar and a killer ( _a monster, whispered a slithering hissing memory_ ). He remembered Phaeris’s first words to him, _you have been gravely wounded_ , wise and forgiving enough to see that and not _you are mad_ or _you are a threat_. Remembered how the dragon had accepted him even broken and mad and dangerous as he had been. Loki needed words, needed his silver tongue to explain to them why he couldn’t leave Phaeris behind, but the words had dried up and he knew if he tried to speak all that would come out was a stutter.

Romanoff was still watching him, her expression unreadable - then a Mechasm hand crashed against the vent behind her, hard enough to knock her stumbling. The Mechasm’s fingers curled in the slats of the vent, working to pull it open.

“We can’t stay here,” Stark said, and Loki turned to see that he’d already picked up the Eliatrope man. “Grab Thor and let’s get gone.”

Loki swallowed back the grief and the anger and nodded, because he was right. They were both right. But even as he crouched to pick up Thor, he couldn’t help finishing Stark’s statement inside his head:

 _Before anyone else dies_.

*             *             *

Out of Mechasm reach around a bend in the duct, they paused so Loki could use a few precious seconds to let Natasha see the line of his tracking spell, fixed on Tikalukatal this time. Tony was already scanning as far forward as the suit’s sensors could reach, but this way Natasha could scout ahead. Which turned out to be critical, because twice she looped back and took them a different route to avoid traps. The Mechasms knew they were in the ducts, and were closing vents and blasting high-pressure gasses wherever they could. Loki’s protection spell only guarded against atmospherics; it wouldn’t stop them being blown off their feet and crushed under a high-pressure blast wave.

Even slowed as they were by Thor and the Eliatrope, it only took them a few minutes to make it back to the big room where they’d come in. Tony had had Jarvis monitoring the comm frequencies, and as they emerged into the big pillar-vat room from a different vent than they’d entered, he suddenly heard a cacophony of shouting over the comms, badly broken by static but clearly audible.

“Cap!” Tony yelled over top of the noise. “Cap, fall back, we’ve got Thor, we need to scram—”

“Working on it!” Steve snapped back, the words stuttered by static. “Where are you?”

“Where we came in,” Tony answered. He could hear the sounds of fighting now, not far away.

“Sit tight, we’re almost there,” Steve said. “Tikal’s calling for Jahanna now.”

Tony started to respond, then froze as three huge forms loomed out of the rows of vats just up ahead: Mechasms, and all of them had their weapons trained on Tony and his companions. “...shit,” he muttered.

Natasha grabbed his arm and yanked. “Over here!”

The Mechasms fired even as he followed her, bright orange and purple blasts slamming into the floor and rattling his teeth. She dragged him between two vats, toward a spot where a cluster of pipes the size of water slides curled around the bottom of one of the vats. Tony couldn’t see Loki or Thor anywhere, and his breath caught - then he glimpsed black and green and a flicker of golden magic in the HUD. Loki stood off to the side of the aisle, Thor still slung over one shoulder, their forms obscured by the shimmer of gold that Tony remembered from the Infinity War: they were under a veil. Tony held his breath, not sure if it would work against the Mechasms - but one of the giant creatures stomped right past them, apparently oblivious to their presence, and he sighed in relief.

He could hear the other two moving through the vats near where he and Natasha crouched under the pipes. They’d have to do something, or Steve’s group wouldn’t be able to get close enough for them to all portal out together. Tony eased the still-unconscious Eliatrope to the floor; when he stood up, Natasha had her guns out. “Be careful,” she said, and he nodded.

Tony slipped around the vat first, not wanting to give her away by flying directly out of the hiding spot. He could see one of the Mechasms nearby, its back to him as it hunched over, peering at the base of the vats. _They don’t know I can fly_ , he realized suddenly, and grinned. He jetted straight up, the noise of his thrusters drowned out by the ongoing wail of the siren and the thrum of whatever was happening in the vats, sighted on an exposed seam in the back of the Mechasm’s neck, and fired both palm blasters.

The Mechasm jerked in surprise and hopefully pain, wheeling around and shouting for its companions. Tony took off through the maze of vats at full speed, letting Jarvis steer while he focused his own attention on the rear HUD to dodge the purple and orange blasts flying at him. He blasted out into the open aisle between the vats, spotted Steve and the others running up the aisle toward Loki. Tony didn’t have time for a real headcount before diving back into the vats to draw the Mechasms away from them, but he thought ( _prayed_ ) they were all there.

He could hear voices over the comm again, still static-stuttered, but caught Tikalukatal saying something about the portal opening. There were more Mechasms now, thundering up the aisle after Steve’s group, and Tony managed to lead the three on his tail directly into their path. They were coordinated enough that the collision only bought him a couple of seconds, but he used it to turn back to where he’d left Natasha. He could see the portal now, far up the aisle - could hear the Mechasms shouting _find it! Don’t let them escape! Get the Eliacube! Get them before it closes!_ \- could see Steve carrying the Eliatrope, the others piling after him, a bleeding Tikalukatal cradling Thor in his arms.

Loki stood next to the portal, waving them through, gold glittering around him, and Tony realized abruptly that Loki had veiled the entire portal and everyone near it. The veil didn’t seem to faze the Mechasms; they could apparently sense the portal’s presence through other means. But when he checked the HUD again he got the impression, from the way their glowing eyes were darting around, the way their hands with those goddamn blasters wavered, that they weren’t quite sure of its exact location. Which was good, because otherwise they’d have started shooting already.

Evangelyne ducked through the portal, the last of the group except Loki. Tony was only a few hundred feet away now, thrusters at full power - he’d be there in just a few seconds ( _come on, come on_ )—

Loki looked up, green eyes meeting Tony’s through the veil and the HUD. There was something wrong about his expression, but Tony didn’t have time to parse it; the Mechasms seemed to have realized that Tony was heading for the unseen portal and had opened fire, and he had to dodge frantically, nearly knocking himself off-course. When he looked back up at the portal ( _faster!_ ), Loki was halfway through it already, vanishing into the blue. Tony put on a last burst of speed—

—but even as he reached it the portal snapped closed, blue light disappearing in a flash, and Tony wasn’t back on Oma Island but still flying up the aisle of the Mechasm ship, with five Mechasms right behind him.


	31. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Loki is manipulating you.”  
>  _-The Avengers_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who came here from the Marvel side of things, and are wondering what in tarnation a Sadida is, why a tofu can fly, and just what, exactly, Tristepin did to Razortime: wonder no more! [Season One of Wakfu is coming to Netflix on September 14th!](http://izmarvelous.tumblr.com/post/97044964047/wakfu-coming-to-netflix-on-sept-14) It's the English dub, which I've seen a few previews of and which generally looks damn good, so no excuses for non-French speakers. Enjoy! :D

Loki stumbled on the loose sand of Oma Island, caught himself against Yugo’s shoulder and straightened, doing a quick headcount. Everyone was there who ought to be ( _including Thor, and that was a miracle he still couldn’t believe_ ), and he sighed in relief.

Then a brilliant flash of light lit up the beach. Everyone flinched back from it, a few people making noises of surprise or worry - but Loki recognized this presence, this lifeforce, and for just a second his breath caught. Had they been wrong, had Phaeris— Then inside the flare of light he saw a translucent form take shape: a dragon’s head and wings, Phaeris looking down at them from within the column of light.

_Do not worry, Yugo, my friends_ , the dragon’s voice echoed around them, coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. _It was time for Phaeris to return to his dofus and start a new life._ For a moment the spirit’s eyes seemed to meet Loki’s, and he continued, _Phaeris is content to sacrifice himself for his friends. But if he is completely honest, he must admit that his greatest joy is to reunite with the soul of his sister Eliatrope. For too long have Mina and Phaeris been separated._

Loki swallowed hard. Beside him, Yugo was shaking, tears spilling down his cheeks; on his other side, Tikalukatal had closed his eyes in sorrow. Nearby on the sand, Adamaï watched Phaeris’s spirit wide-eyed while Jahanna was fighting tears of her own. The rest of the Brotherhood, along with Jane Foster, the serving boy Ragnvalder, and the Avengers, stood in solemn silence around them.

Phaeris’s spirit seemed to smile. _Phaeris knows that his brothers Yugo and Adamaï, and his brother Tikalukatal and his sister Jahanna, will take care of his people._

“Phaeris—” Yugo blurted.

_Be strong, little king_ , Phaeris interrupted gently. _Phaeris has watched you and your brother grow. He knows you will rule well, and he knows that Tikalukatal and Jahanna and Loki, and your mortal friends, will help you._ The spirit flickered, its light fading. Yugo made an abortive motion to reach for it, but dropped his hand back to his side. Loki gripped his shoulder, half-aware that his fingers were digging in too tight, but Yugo didn’t seem to care.

_Phaeris is weak_ , the spirit said, its voice faint. _It is time for him to go. Farewell, friends._ Again the flash of light, and when it had faded and Loki could see again, the sky was empty. Phaeris was truly gone.

“Phaeris…” Yugo whispered. He fell to his knees beside Adamaï, and they leaned on each other while Yugo cried.

Jahanna scrubbed an arm over her eyes, pushed to her feet and caught Loki’s hands, then reached up to brush away tears he hadn’t realized were on his cheeks. “He knew the risks,” she said gently, but Loki could hear the wobble in her voice. He just nodded and squeezed her hand.

“We need to find shelter,” Captain Rogers broke in. His tone was apologetic, as if he knew they also needed time to mourn. But he still held the mysterious Eliatrope man in his arms, and Tikal still carried Thor, and both rescued prisoners needed tending more.

Loki nodded. Swallowed back the grief, because he knew what was coming soon, and knew he’d need to be stronger than he felt at the moment to handle it. No one had noticed yet; there were too many people, and too much chaos between their return and Phaeris’s farewell - but the respite wouldn’t last much longer. Amalia had her mouth open, presumably to offer to grow them a shelter - but then Jahanna looked at Rogers and noticed the Eliatrope for the first time.

“ _Glip?!_ ” she gasped.

Loki frowned, looking at the Eliatrope over her head. The name was familiar… then it hit him: Glip, brother to Baltazar, one of the Eliatropes’ Council of Six and the man who with the dragon Shinonome had raised Jahanna and Tikalukatal.

“Glip?” Yugo repeated, startled, twisting to look with the rest of them. “Baltazar’s brother?” He blinked at Jahanna. “I thought you said he was dead.”

“I thought he was,” Jahanna said. She sounded baffled. She let go of Loki and went to Glip, hands hovering over his body as if she was afraid to touch him. “He left our realm one day to get supplies and never came back. Shinonome searched for him, but she couldn’t find any trace of his wakfu anywhere. He was old already, and we knew he wouldn’t abandon us without saying something, at least to her, so we thought…”

“Apparently the Mechasms found him,” Rogers said.

“Adamaï,” Evangelyne said suddenly. “The other day, when they first came here with that sphere, you said Yugo was there but he wasn’t. Do you think—”

“Yeah, I bet they used that sphere on him,” Adamaï said. “It makes sense. His wakfu feels the way Yugo’s did then, really distant and strange.”  

“He’s so old,” Jahanna whispered. “They kept him alive all this time…” She shook her head, then caught Yugo’s eye. “We should take him to his brother.”

“Yeah,” Yugo agreed softly. He’d clearly heard what she wasn’t saying. They both looked over at Loki. “Can you handle things here for a bit?” Yugo asked. “While we…”

Loki nodded, forcing himself to look more confident than he’d felt. He had hoped to have Jahanna and Tikal with him for the inevitable storm, but the Eliatropes and the dragons needed to tend to their own. Just as Loki needed to tend to Thor. He felt the brush of Jahanna’s mind against his, knew that she knew what he was thinking. _I can handle it_ , he thought at her.

_Be strong_ , she thought back. _We’ll be back as soon as we can._

Loki nodded again. He would be strong. He had to be strong, because the most dangerous part of his plan had only just begun.

*             *             *

There was chaos on the beach for a few minutes, as the Eliatropes and dragons left through a portal with Glip, and Amalia summoned vines and plants to form a roomy hut near the treeline, complete with a flower-cot where Loki could settle Thor. The rest of them piled inside, out of the hot midday sun, checking each other for injuries.

Natasha’s first priority was Clint, who had some bruises and scrapes from dodging Mechasm attempts to dislodge him from his hiding spot in the control room, but was otherwise all right. Steve was less lucky; he’d taken a blow on the shield that had been strong enough, despite the vibranium, to crack a bone in his forearm. That he’d been able to carry Glip for as long as he had was a testament to both the serum’s effectiveness and Steve’s own pigheadedness. The Asgardian boy Ragnvaldr came over with a healing stone, so Natasha left Steve with him and scanned the room, looking for any other signs of trouble.

Loki was sitting on the edge of the bed next to Thor, checking him over for injuries and muttering under his breath while his hands flashed gold - probably some kind of magic healing or diagnostics. Jane was beside him, holding Thor’s hand and smoothing the hair from his face. The remaining members of the Brotherhood were tending to each other across the room, but Natasha didn’t see any major injuries among them. Banner had passed out in another corner, de-Hulked and apparently uninjured, and Stark…

Natasha blinked. Stark wasn’t there.

She turned a slow circle, making sure that she hadn’t just missed him in the crowded room, but Stark was a loud man and now that she was aware of it, his absence was obvious. She checked outside as well, but didn’t see him anywhere on the beach, and unease began to curl in her stomach. If Stark wasn’t here, there was nowhere he could be except left behind on the Mechasm ship.

A commotion behind her in the hut caught her attention, and she went back inside to find Thor struggling valiantly to sit up. Loki was holding him down with a hand on his chest and an expression that said he’d done this before, while Jane was saying urgently, “Thor, stay still, just lie back, Thor— _Thor!_ ”

Thor collapsed back on the cot with a disgruntled snort. “I’m _fine_ ,” he grumbled.

“Of course you are,” Loki said, clearly exasperated. “And you haven’t thrown me across the room out of the goodness of your heart alone.”

Thor glared up at him. “I could if I wanted to,” he said, and despite everything Natasha had to hide a smile at just how petulant he sounded. He seemed to realize it, too, because he huffed again and raised a hand to push the hair off his face. Halfway through the motion he froze, blinked sharply, then looked from Loki to Jane, and beyond them to the Avengers, in utter confusion. “What happened?” he asked. “I don’t…”

“You were kidnapped by a Mechasm, like a fool,” Loki explained tartly. “Your mortal friends came to me for help. We just rescued you from the Mechasms’ ship.”

“...oh,” Thor said. He blinked a couple more times, his eyes not quite focused; Natasha suspected he was considerably more out of it than he wanted to admit. “I don’t remember any of it.”

“Probably for the best,” Loki said, and there was something soft in his voice. He was hiding it well, but Natasha could see the relief in him. She took the moment while he was distracted to study him. He’d been the one shepherding everyone through the portal off the Mechasm ship, and he’d been the last to come through. It was possible that he’d simply miscounted, had thought Stark had made it through the portal when in fact he hadn’t.

Possible, but not likely. Loki Laufeyson was many things, but _careless_ wasn’t one of them.

As if sensing her scrutiny, he looked up, meeting her eyes. His expression was cool, collected - and knowing. Natasha still wasn’t completely confident in her ability to read him, not when he’d played her as much as she’d played him during the Infinity War, but he wasn’t trying to be subtle here. He tilted his head, very slightly: a challenge.

Natasha sighed inwardly, but decided to go along with his game, whatever it was, for now. It wouldn’t be long before someone else noticed that Stark was missing, and anyway, if he really had been left behind on the Mechasm ship, they needed to deal with it now. She said, loud enough to cut over the chatter in the room, “Has anyone seen Stark?”

The various conversations stuttered to a halt as the others looked around, then became a chorus of _no_ ’s and _I don’t think so_ ’s when they realized they hadn’t. Steve caught on first, following Natasha’s stare to Loki. He stood up from the flower-stool he’d been sitting on, nudging past Ragnvaldr with gentle but pointed determination, and crossed the room to Loki.

Loki regarded him calmly; behind him, Thor suddenly rolled his eyes and pursed his lips in frustration. Evidently he recognized something in his brother’s demeanor. Steve ignored Thor and said to Loki, “You were the last one through. Are you sure Tony made it out?”

“No,” Loki said easily, and Natasha narrowed her eyes; she hadn’t expected him to be quite that forward about it. _What’s his game, what does he… Oh_. She remembered abruptly the other part of Loki’s plan, the other thing he’d said he needed to do. Remembered the way he’d eyed Stark on the beach before they’d left, the way he’d manipulated them all like so many chess pieces during the Infinity War.

“Loki,” Evangelyne said. “What’s going on?”

Loki smiled, cold and brittle. Before he could speak, Natasha cut in, “It’s the other part of his plan.”

Everyone looked at her, which was good. She very much didn’t like helping Loki, especially not if he’d just traded Stark for Thor and this world, but she recognized that expression from the war. Loki’s silver tongue cutting sharp lines through their still-fragile alliance was the last thing they needed right now. She continued, “He said he needed to arrange for the sabotage of the Mechasm ships.”

Steve turned back to Loki, and something shifted in his posture so that he was no longer standing beside Loki, but looming over him. “You left Tony behind _deliberately_?”

Natasha braced herself to intervene again, but Loki spoke first this time. His voice, at least, was calm, and she could only hope that he’d gotten a grip on the cracks in his sanity. “I do intend to retrieve him, Captain,” he said. “And since you lot were correct in your wildly optimistic hope that the Mechasms would not immediately kill a useless prisoner, I see little reason to worry for Stark’s safety.” He smiled up at Rogers, bland and unaffected.

“Did Tony know about your plan?” Steve demanded.

“Would you have agreed to it, had I told him and thus you?” Loki shot back. He stood up, all long limbs and lazy grace, and if Steve was more muscular, Loki was still taller, with centuries more experience in using his height to his advantage. “Against a foe as terrible as the Mechasms, with our window to save Thor closing by the second, I did not wish to waste time arguing with you. Stark will play his part, as will the rest of us, and if all goes well, the Mechasms will no longer be a threat to us.” He paused to smile, sharp and jagged. “And should it not go well, then Stark will have the advantage of not living to see just how bad it gets.”

He pivoted on one heel and strode out of the hut, the leather of his jacket flowing imperiously behind him. For a moment no one spoke, staring after him in stunned silence. To Natasha’s surprise, it was Thor who finally broke it. “Do not be too hard on him,” he said softly. “He learned the effectiveness of such trickery at a young age, and for all that we hated it, it served him well throughout our youth.”

Steve had to unclench his jaw before speaking. “He’s done this before? To you?”

“To me, and to many others.” Thor smiled ruefully, a little sadly. “You know that I love my brother, but you begin, I think, to understand why I find it so hard to trust him.”

“Yeah.” Steve folded his arms across his chest. “Except he’s given us no choice but to trust him, if we want to get Tony back.”

“Well,” Amalia spoke up suddenly from the other side of the room, and if Natasha could detect the slight quaver in her voice, she didn’t think anyone else would, “ _I_ trust Loki. He’s helped the Sadida Kingdom a lot over the last few years.” She squared her shoulders, looking Steve in the eye with a princess’s authority. “He may be manipulative, but he’s never been wrong.”

Natasha looked over at Thor. “Well?” she said pointedly. “Has he ever been wrong with these plans before?”

Thor sighed. “No. He always brought us all back alive, even when we thought it was impossible.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” Clint muttered bitterly.

Natasha met Steve’s eyes for a moment. Steve had a point; they had no choice but to trust Loki. And they would just have to hope that this wouldn’t be the one time he was wrong.


	32. Glip and Baltazar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Depuis ma naissance, il était ma seule famille, vous savez? Maintenant nous sommes les derniers de notre peuple.”_  
>  -Wakfu S1E17, “Grougaloragran l’éternel”

Yugo led the others through the double portals to Emrub. His heart ached with the loss of Phaeris, although if he was honest with himself, he’d known it was coming - if not at the Mechasms’ hands, then at nature’s. Phaeris was - had been - thousands of years old, and had been badly wounded in the fight with Qilby and Anathar four years ago. He’d only held on as long as he had to safeguard Shinonome’s dofus, and then to make sure Yugo was well on the path to being a king worthy of the Eliatropes. Still, Yugo had to wipe tears from his eyes again as he stepped out into the grass of Emrub.

Baltazar and the Eliatrope children were waiting for them; evidently they’d been watching what had happened. Baltazar stood at the front of the group, his entire body craning for a look at his brother, his aged eyes both pained and hopeful. Tikalukatal came forward, past Yugo and Adamaï, to lay Glip gently on the grass at Baltazar’s feet.

“Baltazar…” Yugo began, then stopped; he had no idea what to say. They’d brought Glip here to die beside his dragon brother - what _could_ he say?

But Baltazar didn’t seem to even notice him. “Glip,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. He crouched lower, one big claw brushing his brother’s shoulder. “Oh, Glip, brother…”

Jahanna moved up to take Tikalukatal’s hand and lean against his shoulder. Yugo could see, and sense, the grief shot through their wakfu. He felt strange, like an intruder - he hadn’t known Glip at all, not the way the three of them had. He glanced at Adamaï, but Adamaï looked as uneasy as Yugo felt.

Baltazar shuddered, then shifted abruptly to a human form. Yugo had never seen him do it before - had thought he was too old, too weakened by millennia maintaining Emrub, to change his shape - but having Glip here must have given him the strength. His skin was the same rich mahogany as his scales had once been, and he had two jagged, dark brown horns jutting from his temples back over age-whitened hair. He wore simple black pants and the tattered remnants of a purple cloak, and though his bare chest showed the same lack of muscle as his dragon form, he still had the strength to kneel beside Glip and pull his brother into his arms.

It caught them all off-guard when Glip drew a sudden rasping breath and blinked his eyes open.

“Baltazar,” he croaked. His voice was ragged with disuse, his eyes hazy and unfocused as he looked up at his brother. “I must be far gone, to see you so clearly.”

“No,” Baltazar whispered. “It is truly Baltazar. You are free.”

Glip snorted, his voice unexpectedly strong for a moment. “If that was true, I’d be dead. I know how old I am. The Mechasms were all that was keeping me alive.”

“You’re too stubborn to die,” Baltazar said, and smiled, though there were tears in his eyes. “Not without saying goodbye to old Baltazar.”

Glip blinked a few times, then suddenly frowned, his eyes focusing on Baltazar’s face for the first time. “Baltazar…” he said. “It’s really you?”

“Yes, brother. It’s really Baltazar,” the dragon answered softly.

“Good,” Glip whispered. His eyes closed and he seemed to sink into his brother’s arms. “There’s something important… the girl, the girl and the dragon…”

Yugo frowned; saw Jahanna stand up a little straighter and look up at Tikalukatal in confusion. Glip continued roughly, “We were wrong… Shinonome and I, we were so wrong. Qilby’s madness is too great. I saw what he did, saw his true nature… it’s too big a risk. You cannot let her take Qilby’s wakfu.”

Yugo stared, half-aware his mouth was hanging open, but without the slightest idea what to say. Jahanna made as if to move forward, to speak, but Baltazar silenced her with a sharp glare.

Glip was still talking: “When she and her brother come to you, you must kill them. Do you hear me?” His eyes opened again and he glared up at Baltazar fiercely. “Promise me, brother. Promise me you will not let Qilby’s madness be loosed upon the Krosmos again. Kill the girl and her brother, and leave Qilby to rot for what he has inflicted—” He broke off, coughing sharply, struggling to draw breath. Yugo started to move forward, but stopped when Adamaï grabbed him by the arm and shook his head silently. Adamaï hadn’t quite mastered restricting his voice to one person’s ears yet, but Yugo didn’t need words to understand his twin: _don’t interfere._

Yugo gritted his teeth, but Adamaï was right.  From the sound of it, Glip didn’t realize that Jahanna and Tikal had already taken Qilby’s wakfu, much less that they were just a few feet away and could hear everything he said. Trying to convince him otherwise wasn’t worth it, not when he was dying before their eyes.

Glip coughed again, harder, struggling now to draw breath. His eyes had gone hazy again, but he still seemed to be trying to focus on Baltazar. “Promise me, brother,” he rasped. “Kill the girl - she will only do as Qilby has done. He doomed us, he brought the Mechasms’ wrath down on us. And we deserved it for not recognizing his madness sooner—” A horrible wracking cough tore through him; when it was over, he lay limp in Baltazar’s arms, and for a moment Yugo thought that was it. But then Glip looked up at Baltazar, and whispered, “Baltazar, my brother. I’ve missed you.”

“Baltazar has missed you, too,” Baltazar whispered back. “Sleep well, brother. Baltazar will not leave your side again.”

Glip smiled, and his eyes slipped closed. Yugo could feel his wakfu fading, drifting away, not in a bright burst like Grougaloragran or Phaeris’s, but slowly and gently, as if he really was just falling asleep. His last breath left him with a soft sigh, and Baltazar threw back his head and roared his grief.

Jahanna turned away, burying her face against her brother’s shoulder. Tikal wrapped an arm around her, his face drawn with grief. Yugo traded a glance with Adamaï. He felt like he ought to feel more sad than he did, but he hadn’t known Glip; the grief he felt was mostly for the others’ pain, and there was nothing he could offer them right now. Adamaï seemed to agree, and together they backed away from the others, leaving them to their mourning.

Some of the Eliatrope children had gone to Baltazar, wrapping their arms around him, trying to comfort him. But another group of children was approaching Yugo and Adamaï, led by Rettah, an outgoing girl who often cared for the younger children. She’d been about Yugo’s age when they’d first met, though now he had grown four years older and she’d stayed the same. The children with her all looked serious, and Yugo didn’t think it was just from Glip’s death.

“Yugo,” Rettah said. “We wanted to ask you something.”

“Uh,” Yugo said, and rubbed the back of his hat nervously, trying to wrench his thoughts away from death and dying and what he could do to help his friends. He was still weirded out by the idea that the Eliatrope children thought of him as their king, and he was never quite sure how to handle it. “What is it?”

Rettah and another older girl, Kala, exchanged a nervous look, then Rettah said, “We want to help you fight the Mechasms.” She said it quickly, all in one breath like she was afraid he’d interrupt. “We’re Eliatropes too, and the Mechasms killed our families. We know your plan could use more of us - let us help.”

“Rettah—” Yugo started, then had to stop and think what he wanted to say. It didn’t surprise him that they knew about Loki’s plan; they’d probably been watching everything from the moment Yugo and the others had left Emrub the last time. But… “It’s too dangerous,” he said finally. “We don’t know if the Mechasms will be able to attack us. And anyway, if you leave Emrub—”

“We can’t stay in Emrub forever,” Kala interrupted. “You’ve been looking for somewhere we can come live anyway.”

“She’s right,” Rettah said. “And it’s not just because we want to leave.” She looked pointedly back at Baltazar where he was curled around his brother’s body, grief bowing his shoulders. “Baltazar’s old, Yugo,” she said softly. “He’s been old for a long time. I don’t think… I don’t know how much longer he can protect us.”

Yugo stared at her. “You’re not saying…”

Adamaï looked equally horrified. “Phaeris just died, and now you think…”

“He can’t die,” Yugo finished helplessly. Not now, not right after Phaeris, when the Mechasms were still a threat—

“He’s tired, Yugo,” Rettah said. “Ever since the first time you came to Emrub, he’s been talking about how excited he is that we’ll finally have a home again, that we can leave Emrub behind.”

“And we’re tired, too,” Kala added. “We’ve been stuck here forever, and even if we don’t feel the forever, we’ve been watching it pass. It was okay at first, because no one was there and Grougal and Phaeris were mostly sleeping so we’d only look once in a while, but since you came back, we’ve been watching more and more, and we just…”

“We want to leave,” another boy piped up from behind her. Yugo thought his name was Boa. “We want to help you, and we want to _live_ , for real, not just…” He waved his hands helplessly. “ _Exist_ here.”

“And Baltazar should be with his brother,” Rettah said. “He’s protected us for so long. Let us do the same for him.”

“We helped you fight Qilby,” Kala said. “We can help you fight the Mechasms.”

“Please, Yugo,” Rettah said.

Yugo looked to Adamaï for support, but Adamaï just shook his head. “They have a point,” he admitted, “but…”

“But it’s dangerous,” Yugo finished. He looked back at Rettah and Kala and Boa. “Everyone here is the last of the Eliatropes. If you leave Emrub and the Mechasms attack…”

“It’s still better than being stuck here,” Boa said fiercely. “We’ve watched and watched, and we’re tired of being trapped here.”

“It’s time,” Rettah said. “The Mechasms are back. We want to be back, too.”

Yugo gritted his teeth. The problem was, Adamaï was right: they did have a point. Several points. And he knew that half the reason Loki had gone to the trouble of getting Jane Foster’s portal device was because it didn’t have most of the overload protections built into the Zaaps. They needed the extra power bleed to have a hope of getting enough power out of him and Jahanna and the dragons, and even then it was going to be incredibly dangerous for them. If they had the help of the Eliatrope children - the hundred or so who were old enough to contribute - then they stood a much better chance of actually succeeding at blowing out the Mechasms’ power sources. And doing it without killing themselves in the process.

“Ad…” he said quietly.

“What does your heart tell you?” Adamaï said, then smiled crookedly. “That’s what Grougal always used to ask me.”

Yugo closed his eyes. His mind screamed _protect them, keep them here, keep them safe_. But his heart… He could sense Baltazar’s grief, the weight of his age and his mission. Could remember how determinedly the children had fought Qilby four years ago. Could hear their wakfu now, bright and hot and ready to fight again for their future. Could remember his own fierce determination when he’d realized he was fighting Qilby for their people’s future, and how unwilling he’d been to step aside and let Phaeris do the fighting alone.

Could sense one more thread of wakfu, not complete yet but oh-so-close, Jahanna and Loki’s unborn baby who would be at risk if Jahanna burned herself out trying to spring the trap. He swallowed hard.

Being a king _sucked_.

“All right,” he whispered, and wasn’t sure if it was dread or relief he felt. “We’ll take you with us and you can help us fight the Mechasms.”

He did feel a little better about the decision when none of them cheered or celebrated; when he opened his eyes they all looked solemn and determined and fierce. Rettah said quietly, “Thank you.”

“I’ll tell the others,” Kala said, and slipped away.

Rettah glanced around at the remaining children. “Let’s get ready,” she said. They nodded and scattered.

Footsteps behind him, and Yugo sensed Jahanna’s wakfu before he turned. From her expression, she’d heard enough to know what was going on. Yugo blurted, “I didn’t— They were right, we need their help—”

“Hey,” Jahanna interrupted gently. “You’re the king, remember? You don’t have to justify your decisions to me. I trust you.” She smiled, although there were still tear tracks on her cheeks. “You should tell Baltazar.”

Yugo nodded, and followed her back to where Baltazar still knelt with Glip. He hesitated, scratching the back of his hat. “Baltazar,” he said, then had to repeat it when the dragon didn’t seem to hear him. Finally Baltazar looked up, and Yugo made the mistake of meeting his gaze directly. The full weight of his grief, his loneliness, his _age_ hit Yugo like a crackler's fist, and he reeled until Adamaï grabbed his arm to steady him.

Baltazar looked away. “Baltazar apologizes, Yugo,” he said roughly. “He is… very tired, and not controlling himself as he should.”

“It’s okay,” Yugo said. “Baltazar… When we go back to Oma Island… we’re going to take everyone with us. They asked, they want to help—”

The dragon’s mouth quirked into a faint smile. “Baltazar suspected they might ask you,” he admitted. “But are you certain? Once we all leave Emrub, there is no coming back. Baltazar has not the strength to renew its protections.”

“I know,” Yugo said, and managed to keep his voice steady.

Baltazar stared at him, and Yugo could sense that he knew what Yugo was saying, what he was offering. Finally he nodded. “Baltazar is very tired,” he repeated. “He will be glad to finally rest.” He looked down at Glip, his smile becoming softer. “Rest alongside his brother.”

“Thank you,” Yugo said. “For everything.” He leaned over Glip’s body to hug Baltazar fiercely. “Your dofus is safe in the Sadida Kingdom. We’ll be waiting to see you again.”

“Be safe, little king,” Baltazar said, and then looked over at Adamaï. “You both have made old Baltazar proud.” He looked up at Jahanna next, and Tikalukatal behind her. “Do not fear your heritage, child,” he said to her. “Glip did not have the chance to see you grown up, or to see the good you have done. We know now what to watch for. We will not let you fall.”

“Thank you,” Jahanna whispered.

Baltazar’s gaze went past Yugo, and Yugo turned to see that the other children had gathered around them. Most were sniffling and wiping away tears, but others were trying to be stoic. “Children, be good. Take care of your king.”

“Yes, Baltazar,” they chorused.

The edges of Baltazar’s and Glip’s bodies were already beginning to turn hazy blue, fading away, their wakfu mingling in preparation for its return to their dofus. Baltazar smiled one last time. “Goodbye, Yugo.”

Yugo tried to smile, and almost succeeded. “Goodbye, Baltazar.”


	33. Prisoner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t want a body count to be our only legacy.”  
>  _-Iron Man_

The Mechasms threw Tony in the same block of cells he’d just helped spring Thor from, a few rows down from the damaged cells. He couldn’t decide if it was because they didn’t have anywhere else to put him, or because they knew that even if he did break out, he didn’t have anywhere to go. Not without an Eliatrope portal, and everyone had seen how well _that_ had worked out.

He passed the next few hours by working on the suit with its emergency repair tools (making notes to Jarvis as he worked to update the toolkit because _wow_ was it not sufficient). It hadn’t been more than scuffed when the Mechasms caught him - one of them had just grabbed him in a massive hand like he was a bug - and he couldn’t do anything else about the damage Ush Galesh had inflicted until he got back to his lab and had access to real tools and spare parts. But he’d always thought better when he had tools in his hands, and anyway if he didn’t do _something_ , he was going to explode.  

The worst part was, he couldn’t figure out Loki’s game. He was sure Loki had left him behind on purpose - that look as he’d stepped through the portal hadn’t been _the Mechasms are too close to safely let Tony through_. And it was _Loki_. The irony was not lost on Tony that for all he’d been mad at the other Avengers for assuming Loki was up to something, now, well. Now _he_ was certain that Loki was up to something.

A sound outside the cell made Tony look up, just in time to see the outer wall-slash-door swing open. A Mechasm peered in at him, its eyes shining bright purple light into the cell. Tony squinted; he thought this one was different than the one that had brought him here. It looked… _older_ , for lack of a better word. Its metal skin was rougher, darker, with scratches and jags at the seams. It had a patch on one shoulder that didn’t appear to be decorative; Tony could just make out a silvery scar poking out from beneath it. And the apertures of its eyes kept narrowing and widening again, like it was trying to get him in focus and failing.

Or… no. Tony realized suddenly that it was looking between him and the Iron Man suit where it lay on the ground at his feet. It occurred to him that the Mechasms may have thought they’d captured another mechanical life-form like themselves, that they hadn’t realized there was a flesh-and-blood human inside the shell of the suit, and now this one was trying to figure out what was going on.

Tony wiggled his fingers in a wave. “Hi,” he said, and flashed the Mechasm a bland smile. “Like the suit? It’s titanium alloy. Made it myself.”

The Mechasm tilted its head. “It talks,” it said. Its voice - his voice? It was vaguely masculine - was raspy and strange, and had an accent not unlike Jahanna and Tikalukatal’s.

“Yeah,” Tony said. “I talk. A lot. It’s a thing, I’m kind of—”

“No,” the Mechasm interrupted. Its eyes shifted to focus on the suit. “ _It_ talks.”

Tony blinked, then looked down at the suit. “Jarvis?” he demanded. “Are you talking behind my back?”

“My apologies, sir,” Jarvis said. “The Mechasm appears able to interpret some of my communication protocols.”

_Yikes_. “Warn me next time, okay?” Tony said.

He turned back to the Mechasm, mouth open to ask what it wanted, but it spoke first: “You built it?”

“Yeah,” Tony said. “Kind of a side project I started a few years back. Been making improvements ever since. This one’s the Mark Sixty-Three.”

The Mechasm’s purple eyes focused on Tony again. Behind their bright glow he could see things moving, shuttering open and closed like lenses of a camera; it was unsettling. “You built its heart?”

“Uh…” Tony said. He was pretty sure that by _heart_ it meant the suit’s arc reactor, glowing blue-white in the cell’s dim light. But while the arc reactor was damn advanced tech for Earth, it had to be peanuts to the Mechasms, who were literally _living machines_. Why had it caught this guy’s eye? “Yeah?”

The Mechasm moved, straightening up from where it had been crouching to look into Tony’s cell, and stepping back so it could still see him. It was on the small side for a Mechasm, not quite forty feet tall, with uneven shoulders and mismatched legs. More ragged patchwork dotted its torso and arms, along with a handful of old scorch marks and scars from some kind of metal-on-metal slice. It said, “I am Ferronox. What are you called?”

“Uh,” Tony said again. He’d honestly been expecting some kind of interrogation, maybe torture ( _had been trying really fucking hard not to remember Afghanistan and the terrorists’ cave_ ), but Ferronox didn’t seem inclined toward either. “Tony. Tony Stark.” He tried another smile. “Call me Tony.”

“Tony,” Ferronox repeated. “You are not an Eliatrope.”

“Nope,” Tony said. “Human.”

“Yet you Build,” Ferronox said, and this time Tony heard the capital letter. Ferronox shifted, giving the impression of coming to a decision; then it said, “Good. Then Build for us.”

Tony frowned - then it hit him, and he groaned. _Damn it, Loki_. “You want me to build you an—”

“Eliacube,” Ferronox said, and nodded toward the suit where it lay at Tony’s feet. “You will build for us an Eliacube.”

Tony stared down at the arc reactor, fingers tightening around the wrench he was still holding. ( _Yinsen’s voice in his head: He wants you to build the missile. The Jericho missile that you demonstrated._ ) Loki had said, repeatedly, that the arc reactor sounded like an Eliacube; had manipulated Tony into making it even more so during the Infinity War. Tony couldn’t believe he hadn’t realized it before, that the Mechasms wanted an Eliacube and Tony waltzing in with his arc reactor was handing them one on a silver platter. ( _Your life’s work, in the hands of those murderers._ )

Tony’s stomach roiled and he had to sit down hard on the bench, his heart thudding in his chest like a clock ticking, his ears ringing with a distant chime. It took a couple of minutes for the memory to fade, the hot dampness of the cave, the then-unfamiliar weight of the electromagnet in his chest, the fingers knotted painfully in his hair as he struggled to keep the magnet’s power wires from hitting the water they were dunking him in. When he could see the Mechasm cell again - sterile metal walls on an alien ship an unimaginable distance from home, but at least not that goddamn cave - he found himself gripping the edges of the bench hard enough that he had to pry his fingers off.

Ferronox was still watching him, and once Tony’d managed to unclench his hands, it said, “Are you well?”

“No,” Tony shot back before he could stop himself. “I’m being held prisoner, for the second time in my life, by _mass-fucking-murderers_ , and you’re asking me to _help_ you.” He swallowed hard, tried to get his voice under control. The Ten Rings thugs had used drowning to punish him for impertinence; he didn’t want to find out what the Mechasms would do. “Why do you want an Eliacube so bad, anyway? What’s the big deal?”

“That is not your concern,” Ferronox answered coldly. It raised a hand, palm up, and held it to the edge of the cell. “Come with me.”

Tony hesitated, uncomfortably aware of just how big that hand was, how strong it probably was compared to how fragile he definitely was. But it wasn’t like he had many options, and hey, maybe if he did what the Mechasms wanted, they wouldn’t kill him before the Avengers could get one of the Eliatropes to open a portal to come rescue him. ( _The Eliatropes who were both friends of Loki’s and probably part of his plan, but hey, a guy could hope._ ) He stepped out onto Ferronox’s hand.

Metal whined and groaned, and an off-balance gear made clicking noises somewhere around Ferronox’s elbow as the Mechasm lifted its hand to its shoulder. Taking the hint, Tony carefully climbed off, pulling himself up to perch on one of the decorative bolts on Ferronox’s shoulder. Ferronox waited for him to get settled, then took off down the hall.

Ferronox walked with an odd limping swagger, and for a couple of minutes Tony had to focus just on hanging on. But once he got the rhythm of it, he started looking around as they passed through the ship - and the first thing he noticed was how _empty_ it felt. Maybe he’d just watched too much _Star Trek_ as a kid, but he’d figured that any kind of honest-to-god interstellar battleship would need a lot of crew. Yet though they walked for nearly ten minutes, they passed only a handful of other Mechasms. Actually, now that Tony thought about it, the Mechasms’ response to the humans’ arrival on the ship had seemed kind of weak, too. Running it through his mind, he could only remember seeing seven or eight Mechasms, tops. _You’d think that if their ancient enemy opened a portal right on their ship, they’d send their entire damn army_.

Maybe it was just that any one Mechasm was so freaking powerful compared to mortals that they hadn’t felt the need to send more. _Yeah_ , Tony answered himself, _except they only managed to capture one of us, and then only because Loki wanted me captured, so someone miscalculated_.

Still, he couldn’t help asking Ferronox, “So where is everyone? I didn’t figure a plain old human would require any kind of quarantine—”

“That is not your concern,” Ferronox said again. It came to a stop before a door that, to Tony’s eyes, looked no different than the dozens of others they’d passed. It opened to reveal a large - by Mechasm standards - room filled with what were clearly worktables and tools, even if Tony had no idea what most of the tools were for. Ferronox threaded its way through the tables to the far corner, where a series of tables formed a U-shape that walled the area off from the rest of the room. The tables were covered with massive shards of stone and metal: pieces of buildings, of transports, sized for humans and etched with decorative swirls and loops and what might have been writing, symbols that looked oddly familiar—

_No_ , Tony realized suddenly. Sized not for humans, but for Eliatropes. The carvings looked like the patterns in the giant portals Jahanna and Yugo opened to go between worlds, like the runes they’d woven into the circle around Jane’s portal device, and he could see a faint bluish glow still clinging to some of them. The Mechasms must have stolen anything they hadn’t destroyed when they wiped out the Eliatropes, probably in the hope of figuring out for themselves how to build an Eliacube.

Ferronox held its hand up to its shoulder, and Tony allowed himself to be lifted down to the surface of one of the tables. From here, he could see that some of the buildings’ interiors were intact enough to still hold equipment, tools familiar and not, even some scattered furniture. It at least answered the question of how the Mechasms expected him to build anything, given the size differences involved.

“We have collected everything you should need,” Ferronox said from above him. “Inform me immediately should you find anything lacking.”

Tony swallowed, debating whether or not to bring up the fact that while he’d met a couple of Eliatropes, he didn’t actually have the first idea how to work their tools. Especially since most of the “work” he’d seen Jahanna and Yugo do had been almost entirely magic, no tools involved. But he was only worth keeping alive if the Mechasms thought he could build them an Eliacube, so he settled for saying, “Sure, yeah, I’ll do that.”

Then he steeled himself, crossed over to the nearest pile of tools, and got to work.

*             *             *

Ferronox watched the little not-Eliatrope - _human_ , it had called itself - as it scurried around the worktable, long enough to be sure that it was doing as promised, and to collect its list of required materials. Figuring out what it wanted took some time, as Tony did not speak the language of eternity, but eventually Ferronox managed to translate it all. It left the human with a promise to return soon with the materials, and a warning that a guard would be watching, should Tony attempt to escape.

The part about the guard was a lie; they did not have the numbers to spare anyone besides Ferronox on guard duty. And the human had noticed the shortage, had commented on it in the hall - it was possible Tony could close the circuit. But it was a risk Ferronox was willing to take, since the only way off the ship for Tony was an Eliatrope portal. Still, Ferronox locked the workroom door behind itself before limping off down the hall toward the storerooms.

They hadn’t been sure, when they'd caught the human during its attempted escape, what they’d had in their hands. They had sensed its heart - so similar to the Eliacube, but different in subtle ways, ways that reminded Ferronox of Malevax and Orgonax - and the warrior who’d captured it had come straight to Ferronox to report. Ferronox had watched Tony over the prison cell’s viewer for some time, as Tony stripped out of the metal skin and set to work Building it. That had been enough to convince Ferronox to attempt to speak with Tony. A long shot, perhaps, but if it worked...

There was a direct path from the workrooms to the storerooms, but Ferronox chose a different route, looping through a little-used corridor in the heart of the ship. Ferronox stopped before a familiar observation window and peered inside, feeling an ache in its own heart as it looked down at the room’s occupant. “Soon,” Ferronox said out loud. “The prisoner is building you an Eliacube. We can finally end the Eliatrope curse.”

There was no answer, of course, but still Ferronox felt better as it resumed its walk to the storerooms. _Soon_ , it repeated to itself, holding the thought close. _Soon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was having trouble picturing Mechasm scale until I went and stood next to a narrow four-story-tall building. That's roughly the size of Ferronox, who's on the small side for a Mechasm (some of the warriors are around the size of a six- or seven-story-tall building). Then picture your average three-story shopping mall. That's roughly the size of the worktables.


	34. Doubts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Mais ... vous croyez vraiment que j'ai droit à une seconde chance?"_  
>  _"Tous a droit à une seconde chance!"_  
>  -Wakfu S1E22, “Rubilax”

Evangelyne stayed in the little hut long enough to make sure Tristepin and Amalia were actually going to rest - they’d both burned a lot of energy on the Mechasm ship, and would need to be at the top of their game if the Mechasms managed to get to the World of Twelve - then slipped outside to look for Loki. She’d seen the way the foreigners had huddled up after he’d left, could guess what they were saying, and knew that Loki would need some backup.

Not that she herself was particularly happy about what he’d done. Betraying a companion like that was not something she took lightly, and she knew Tristepin and Amalia both felt the same way. While Amalia had spoken up in Loki’s defense earlier, Eva suspected it was more out of solidarity against the foreigners than actually in support of Loki’s actions. It was scary to think that Loki might pull something like that on one of them, and while Eva thought ( _hoped_ ) that he wouldn’t do it to his friends, she wanted to make sure.

He was standing on the beach, waves breaking perilously close to his boots. She could see the way his shoulders tensed at her approach, could guess that he recognized her footsteps and was bracing for her to berate him. If he’d been Amalia or Yugo or Cléophée, she would have. But he was Loki, and she’d known for years now that even if his silver tongue could dance him out of just about any scolding, he would take the words far more harshly than they were intended. Since the Avengers had already taken him to task anyway, and the last thing they needed was for him to close off in one of his panic attacks - especially if it happened before Jahanna and Tikalukatal came back from Emrub to help him - Evangelyne bit down on her own annoyance for now.

Instead, she stopped beside him, standing at ease and looking out over the waves as he was doing. “So,” she said conversationally. “You said you had a plan to get Stark back. What do you need us to do?”

She knew she’d made the right call when he turned to stare at her, incredulous and, she thought, a little afraid. “Aren’t you going to shout at me?” he asked, and though he was clearly trying for a joke, she could hear the tension in his voice.

Eva met his gaze. “And what would that accomplish?” she asked dryly. “Whether or not I think it was the right thing to do, you’ve already done it.” Loki flinched, but Eva continued, “So we keep going. Just… promise me you’ll tell us before you do something like that again?”

“Had I told them, they would never—” he started, his voice heated, but Eva interrupted him.

“Told _us_ ,” she said. “We’re your friends, Loki.”

“I know,” he said. His hands opened and closed at his sides, restless. “But…”

“But nothing,” she said, maybe more sharply than she’d meant because he flinched again. In a gentler tone, she continued, “Promise? That you’ll tell us?”

He stared at her again, long enough that she started to feel uneasy. “What?” she demanded finally. “What were you expecting me to say?”

“Not that,” Loki admitted.

“Hmph.” She folded her arms and turned back to the ocean. “Well, when you’re done being an idiot, _try_ to remember that we’re your friends and we want to help you, and we can’t do that if you keep secrets from us. All right?”

He took a deep breath and blew it out. “All right. Then I will make your promise.”

“Good,” Eva said, and smiled at him; after a moment he smiled back, tentative and shy. “So what’s our next step?”

“We need to—” He abruptly went still, head cocked to the side to listen. A moment later Eva heard it as well, the subtle hum of a portal, and she turned around to see a big Emrub portal spinning open a little ways away. Yugo and Adamaï emerged first, both looking solemn as they stepped onto the sand. Jahanna and Tikal were behind them, Jahanna’s eyes reddened, her expression grim. And behind them…

Evangelyne’s eyes widened. Behind them came a flood of children, all wearing fox-eared Eliatrope hats and all looking varying degrees of excited and frightened. Eva had known about the Emrub children, had been working with Yugo and the others to figure out where to start building a new home for them, but had never actually seen them before - and she had no idea why they were here now.

Beside her, Loki looked from Yugo to Jahanna, one eyebrow raised in a pointed request for an explanation. Jahanna just looked over at Yugo, who lifted his chin in the way that meant he was about to be stubborn. “Baltazar has returned to his Dofus with Glip,” he said, then gestured to the group of children behind him. “They’re going to help us fight the Mechasms.”

*             *             *

Loki made himself take a deep breath before responding. The news of Baltazar’s death didn’t surprise him much; he’d known when they left for Emrub with Glip that it was a possibility. Though Loki had hoped Baltazar could have held on at least until the Mechasm threat was past, he also understood the pain of losing ( _almost losing; Thor was safe and Loki had to keep reminding himself of it)_ a brother. And losing Baltazar meant losing Emrub, which explained why Yugo and Jahanna had brought the children to the World of Twelve. But Yugo agreeing to let the children help fight the Mechasms… _that_ was unexpected. And extremely dangerous.

When he had his voice under control, Loki said, “I don’t think that would be wise. They’ll be safest in the Sadida Kingdom—”

“They want to help,” Yugo interrupted. “They asked me.”

Loki frowned. “You warned them of the danger?”

“Yes,” Yugo said, in a tone which managed to convey, _of course_.

One of the children, a girl named Rettah, spoke up before Yugo could say anything else: “We know what the Mechasms can do. We know how dangerous it’ll be. But they killed our parents, it’s because of them we were trapped in Emrub for forever. We want to help.” Several other children added a chorus of _uh-huh_ s and _yeah_ s to her words.

Loki sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He very much did not like the idea, but Yugo had already agreed to let them do it, and Loki didn’t want to - technically didn’t have the standing to - override Yugo’s orders as the Eliatrope King. Besides, if Loki was honest, he was selfishly glad that the Eliatrope children would be helping. Their presence, risky as it was, would relieve Jahanna of a great deal of strain during one of the most difficult parts of Loki’s plan. He already hadn’t liked asking her to do it, but Yugo couldn’t work Jane Foster’s device on his own. “All right,” Loki said reluctantly. “We’ll still need to move the youngest children to a safe place—”

“Papa Alibert’s inn,” Yugo said. “He won’t mind watching them for a few days.”

Loki shook his head. “Alibert is a good father, but even he will be overwhelmed by two dozen infants. Take them to the Sadida Kingdom; Canar and Renate can watch them in the nursery.”

“Pinpin and Amalia and I will help,” Eva volunteered. She caught Loki’s eye; he knew she was going to tell Yugo about Stark, and he was grateful that he wouldn’t have to handle that conversation on his own. Yugo would probably understand why Loki had done it, but while the boy could be manipulative when he needed to, he preferred putting himself at risk rather than others, and would not like Loki’s actions any more than Evangelyne did.

Yugo nodded. “Ad, can you take the others into the mountain?” he asked. “We’ll move our camp into Grougal’s caves since there’s so many of us now.”

“Sure,” Adamaï agreed, and gestured for the older children to follow him. “This way, everyone!”

As he, Yugo, and Eva began rounding up the children, Jahanna and Tikalukatal came to stand beside Loki. Jahanna bumped his shoulder with hers and he felt the brush of Tikal’s mind against his own - their way of asking if he was all right. He wrapped an arm around Jahanna’s waist in response, pulling her closer against him. Caught in his own thoughts, he almost missed the tension in her body, in the way Tikal’s brow furrowed.

Loki nudged Jahanna gently. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Jahanna said, though he knew her well enough to spot the lie, and clearly she knew it, too, because she added, “Just… watching Glip die again, losing Baltazar…”

But that wasn’t all - Loki could see it in the way Tikal frowned at his sister, in the way Jahanna was carefully not looking at him. He waited, but she didn’t elaborate; finally Tikal said pointedly, “Glip was never kind, and captivity made him even less so. Do not take his words to heart.”

Jahanna just said, “I know. I’m not,” so Loki raised an eyebrow over her head at the dragon.

Tikal said silently to Loki, _Glip’s dying wish was for Baltazar to kill Tikalukatal and Jahanna. He believes Qilby’s madness is too strong - that Jahanna will only do as Qilby did, and destroy the last of our people._

Loki winced. He knew how sensitive Jahanna was about her heritage, how afraid she was that she would go wrong as Qilby had. And while she’d never seemed particularly close to Glip, the man had still raised her, and Loki knew better than most how badly such a condemnation hurt.

Jahanna looked between them and scowled. “I’m _fine_ , you two, stop it.”

“That you are,” Loki said with a prurient wink, “but humor us.”

She elbowed him in the side. “I’m round as a bulb and my feet are so swollen I can’t fit any of my boots—”

“Yet you remain stunningly attractive,” Loki said. “Not to mention exceptionally intelligent, fiendishly clever, and generously caring.”

“Flatterer,” she said, but the distraction had worked: the tension had eased from her body, and when he bent to kiss her she smiled.

“I have faith in you,” he whispered against her lips. “Whatever Glip said, he does not know the woman you have become, nor does he know the good you have done. You will not fall as Qilby did.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly, seriously. “You’re right and I know it, it’s just…”

“Hard,” Loki said.

She nodded, then shook herself and straightened, dismissing the subject. “All right. Enough of that.” She glanced around at the empty beach. “It looks like the children are all set, so what do we do now?”

“The hardest thing,” Loki said, and it came out grim. “We wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter this week - I was hoping to have more writing time since I've been laid up at home with my foot in a cast (no worries, I'm fine!), but pain meds are not condusive for writing. Whoops. XD 
> 
> The pacing on this section still feels awkward, although I think it may be an unfortunate side effect of the plot structure. What do you guys think? Still interesting? Is there something I could be doing better?


	35. Working, and Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t know what to do.”  
> “Just breathe. Really, just breathe. You’re a mechanic, right?”  
> “Right.”  
> “You said so.”  
> “Yes I did.”  
> “Why don’t you just build something?”  
> - _Iron Man 3_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter's late! I meant to post yesterday but had to do something else. But we're here now, so enjoy!

The third time Tony had to go back and fix a stupid mistake, Jarvis’s voice came from the phone in his pocket, muffled but still reproachful: “Sir, it has been nearly twenty-four hours since you last slept. You need to take a break. You need to eat.”

“Pepper programmed you to say that, didn’t she,” Tony said. “And it has not, I slept last night.”

“Yesterday night, in Bonta,” Jarvis corrected.

Tony opened his mouth to retort, then paused. Had it really been that long? They’d woken up early-ish in Bonta, eager to return to the Sadida Kingdom with the Sram mask. Seven hours or so on dragoturkey back, then another few hours waiting around for Loki and the Eliatropes to do whatever it was they’d done to Jane’s device to tune it for Loki’s plan, then the attack on the Mechasm ship, then a few hours sitting in a cell, and then however long he’d been working now. His stomach grumbled sullenly as he thought, adding another point in Jarvis’s favor, and Tony sighed.

“Okay, yeah, fine,” he muttered. He set down his tools and stepped out from the half-intact building he’d been working in. Ferronox loomed above him; the Mechasm had been standing there, immobile and silent, ever since it had returned with the supplies Tony asked for. Tony had tried to forget it was there, but now he cleared his throat and called, “Hey! C-3PO! You awake up there?”

“My name is Ferronox,” the Mechasm said flatly. “Do you need something?”

“Food,” Tony said, his stomach underscoring his words with another rumble. “I’m human, we need food. And someplace to sleep.”

Ferronox’s eyes did that weird shutter thing again, purple light flickering as it looked down at him in silence for a moment. Then it turned toward the door. “I will return shortly with food. There are sleeping quarters in that building.” It pointed at a smaller building on the other side of the U formed by the worktables.

Tony eyed the building as Ferronox disappeared through the workroom door. “Because that’s not creepy at all,” he muttered under his breath. Sleeping quarters in a building thousands of years old, whose residents had been murdered by the machines that now wanted Tony to build a device that would let them wipe out the last of their race.

_Or something_. Because Tony still didn’t actually know _why_ the Mechasms wanted an Eliacube. Loki and Jahanna seemed to assume it was because either they were using it to track the Eliatropes - which, since they now wanted Tony to build one, was unlikely - or they needed its power. But honestly that seemed unlikely, too, because the Mechasms were pretty damn powerful on their own. They’d already found and nearly wiped out the Eliatropes twice without an Eliacube; there was no reason why they couldn’t do whatever else they wanted - including killing the last of the Eliatrope survivors - without it.

_Unless they need it to get to Emrub_ , Tony thought suddenly, and his blood ran cold. If the Mechasms somehow knew about the Eliatrope children in Emrub, then they’d know they needed to do more than kill Yugo, Jahanna, and Chibi. And Yugo had said you needed an Eliacube to get to Emrub…

_—Eliatrope children screaming, falling onto a green meadow; a dragon roaring with pain; a madman’s cackle rising over the sound of children crying—_

Tony staggered, grabbed onto the nearest crumbling wall to stay upright as the… vision? memory? assaulted him. For a second he’d been there, breathing the smoke, feeling the impacts of childrens’ bodies against the ground, hearing their cries, and it took most of a minute before he got his breathing under control, before his heart stopped hammering against his chest, _ticktickticktick_. His stomach roiled and he was suddenly glad he hadn’t eaten because he was pretty sure he’d’ve thrown up.

Finally it faded, the Mechasm workroom coming back into focus around him, and Tony eased his white-knuckled grip on the wall. _What the hell…?_ Flashbacks he was used to - he’d had them since the Infinity War - but this, this... vision? This was new, and extremely unpleasant, and he wasn’t sure if he should blame Loki on principle, or if it was something in the blue lines of energy that still pulsed through the broken buildings around him, or - remembering Asgard and the healer’s ward - if Frigga All-Mother was responsible. Whichever it was, it sucked and he wanted a refund.

He could hear Jarvis in his pocket, the AI’s voice worried as it asked if he was all right, and he dug out his phone. “I’m fine, Jarvis,” he said, although he could hear the wobble in his own voice, and he ran a hand over his face. “I’m fine. Really.”

Except he wasn’t, because freaky visions aside, if he was right about this, if the Mechasms were making him build an Eliacube so that they could go to Emrub and murder the children living there…

_No_ , Tony thought grimly. Whatever Loki’s plan was, Tony wasn’t about to help murder children. Except the Mechasms would kill him if he didn’t build them an Eliacube, and while Tony would rather die than kill hundreds of children, he had the sinking feeling that he was missing something. Something important. He didn’t think Loki had left him here to die - or give the Mechasms what they wanted - but if he didn’t figure out Loki’s plan soon, that was exactly what was going to happen.  

*             *             *

Natasha watched silently as Banner paced in the confines of the little cabin. Steve sat nearby, outwardly still, but she recognized the tension in his arms and shoulders. Thor was asleep on the pallet, watched over by a dozing Jane and the Asgardian boy Ragnvaldr, while the natives slept sprawled at the other end of the hut. Clint had fallen asleep as well, less because he was tired than because he knew how crucial it was to sleep when you could when you were on a mission. Natasha knew full well she should be sleeping, too, but there was no way she could, not with Banner this close to Hulking out and letting the Other Guy take out his frustration on Loki.

Steve caught her eye and she knew he knew what she was thinking. “Bruce,” he said, his voice carefully calm. “You should try to get some sleep. We don’t know when we’ll get the signal from Tony—”

“ _If_ we get the signal from Tony,” Banner snapped, then took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he added in a calmer voice. “It’s just…”

“You’re worried,” Natasha said gently. “We all are.”

“Do none of you trust him?” a soft voice said, and Natasha turned in surprise to Ragnvaldr. The boy was watching them, blue eyes wide, fists clenched: afraid of them, yes ( _even though he was Asgardian and could probably kill them all_ ), but also angry. “Lord Laufeyson has proved himself to your people and ours, many times over.”

“He let Tony get captured by the Mechasms,” Steve pointed out. “He’s using us like pawns. That’s not the kind of thing that fosters trust.”

Ragnvaldr glanced nervously at the sleeping Thor, then said, “He follows the example of no less a personage than the Allfather himself. Or do you say the Allfather should not be trusted?”

“No one’s saying that,” Steve said. “But—”

“But it was not right when my father did it,” Thor’s voice broke in, gentle but firm. Natasha hadn’t realized he was listening; their conversation must have roused him. He pushed himself up on one elbow, wincing a little and blinking against the light from the setting sun, but his gaze was steady as he looked up at Ragnvaldr. “You are right that my brother learned the Allfather’s lessons well. But Loki has taught us a lesson of his own: that even the Allfather is not infallible.”

Ragnvaldr trembled, his eyes cast to the ground, his shoulders hunched. “I am sorry, Your Highness. I meant no offense.”

“None taken,” Thor said. “It is good that you have learned to ask such questions, if you wish to follow in my brother’s footsteps.” He nodded toward the green band still tied around the boy’s arm.

Ragnvaldr blushed fiercely, one hand coming up to cover the band, but before he could say anything, the cabin door opened and Evangelyne stepped in. “Tristepin, Amalia, Ruel,” she called. “I need you for a few minutes.”

“What’s going on?” Steve asked, coming to his feet with his shield in his hand as Amalia and the others shook themselves awake. Through the open door Natasha could hear voices, high and excited.

Evangelyne hesitated, then said, “Yugo’s brought allies. We’re moving camp into the caves so we have enough space.”

“Allies?” Steve repeated skeptically, and traded a glance with Natasha. Evangelyne didn’t look particularly happy about these allies, and the last thing they needed right now was more problems.

“Oh, no,” Amalia said suddenly, eyes wide. “Not—”

“Yes,” Evangelyne said grimly.

Natasha crossed to the door and leaned out in time to see a flood of children, none older than twelve or so, crossing the beach up toward the tree line. They all wore cat-eared Eliatrope hats, and portals flashed here and there as they moved. Steve came up behind her, breathing out a soft _whoa_ as he took in the scene.

“The last of the Eliatropes,” Evangelyne said from behind them. “Glip’s death destroyed their hiding place. They want to help us, but if they do, if the Mechasms make landfall…”

“They’ll be wiped out,” Steve said.

“Then we will not let that happen,” Thor said firmly. Natasha turned to see that he’d sat up and swung his legs off the bed. Jane and Ragnvaldr hovered at his sides, but he didn’t waver as he pushed himself to his feet.

“That’s a nice sentiment,” Banner said. “But we may not get a vote. It’s all on Tony right now. If he can’t do what Loki needs...”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t have to. If Tony didn’t realize what Loki needed him to do, if he couldn’t sabotage the Mechasms’ ship to allow Loki to disable it via Jane’s portal device, then it was only a matter of time before the Mechasms killed them all.

*             *             *

Tony was relieved to see that none of the beds in the building Ferronox had directed him to had bloodstains, or skeletons, or any other sign of the massacre that must have happened around them. The building had probably been some kind of dormitory or group housing; rows of low beds ran along its walls for nearly its entire length, broken up by what Tony realized, after some examination of the weird plumbing, was a public bath- and shower room. The beds were as well-preserved as the rest of the tools, complete with blankets and pillows, and Tony sank onto one of them.

“I can’t do this, Jarvis,” he said quietly. “I can’t help them murder children.”

“Of course, sir,” Jarvis answered.

Tony sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, trying not to think. He’d been building an arc reactor tuned like the one he’d made three years ago during the Infinity War, since he didn’t actually know how to build an Eliacube, but he had the sick feeling that since that arc reactor had been enough to power Jane’s portal device, it would be enough for the Mechasms, Eliacube or not. He couldn’t - _wouldn’t_ \- believe that Loki’s plan was just to give the Mechasms an arc reactor and hope they went away. Loki was smarter than that. There had to be something else, something more…

Wait.

Tony jammed a hand into his pants pocket, digging around until he found what he was looking for: a tiny blue crystal, the one Loki had given him before they’d left for the Mechasm ship. _Qilby’s notes about the spell for disabling the Mechasms’ power sources._ Loki’d said he needed to sabotage the Mechasm ship to allow the portal device to connect to it, but he’d made no attempt to do anything other than rescue Thor, and abruptly Tony remembered the way Loki had looked at him right before the portal closed.

_God fucking dammit_.

Tony stared at the crystal. It was maybe the size of a largish grape, with no obvious buttons, switches, or anything else to show how it worked. _Brilliant plan, Loki, couldn’t you maybe have shown me how to actually read the damn thing?_

But even as he thought it, he felt the crystal hum between his fingers, and a voice echoed out into the room: _“There must be a way to get my hands on a Mechasm power source. There must! Perhaps if I—Yes. Oh, yes, I can do this. I’ll need Shinonome’s help, I think, and my Eliacube, and a focusing device, yes, and one of the Mechasms' ships. Perhaps a shuttle, they have many of them and wouldn’t hurt for the loss of one…”_

Tony hurriedly glanced out at the workroom, but Ferronox hadn’t come back yet. Tony settled back onto the bed, listening as the voice - presumably Qilby - talked through the mechanics of his plan. There were still a lot of holes - either Loki thought Tony understood more about the magitech aspects than he actually did, or he expected him to figure them out - but it was something. And Tony could see now why Loki’d set him up to be forced to build an Eliacube, because Qilby’s plan hinged heavily on having one - or something like one - to make the necessary connections.

It wouldn’t be easy, sure - but it was something, and all Tony had to do was finish building his Elia-arc-reactor, then link it to the control hub of the Mechasm ship. Tony lay back on the bed, his mind racing, formulae and diagrams and plans spinning through his brain. He could do this. Loki hadn’t left him here to build a device to murder children, he’d left him here to build the device to _save_ them. Assuming Tony figured out the more arcane aspects, and then managed to build the thing, and then managed to connect it to the Mechasm ship, all without getting caught.

Tony swallowed.

_Sure._

_Easy as pie._


	36. Orgonax

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Grâce à la puissance de l’Eliacube, nous avons conçu un vaisseau nous permettant de naviguer entre les étoiles: le Zinit."_  
>  -Wakfu S2E06, “Qilby”

_Tick-tock_.

It was easier to work with a purpose in mind - at least, a purpose beyond “build yet another arc reactor”. Tony slept, and ate the flavorless but nutrient-packed gruel Ferronox brought him, and got back to work. He didn’t dare listen to Qilby’s notes with Ferronox in the room, so he had to make up more supply requests to get the Mechasm to leave. He even tried asking if he could have the Iron Man suit back, on the premise that he needed a couple of tools from its kit and also access to some of its wiring. Which wasn’t entirely a lie, either; he cannibalized one of the suit’s comm modules to use as a broadcast point.

_Tick-tock._

More meals. He fell asleep again, dozing over his worktable and waking when a massive hand lifted him with startling care and deposited him on one of the beds in the other building. Another few hours of sleep, filled with restless unsettling dreams of war and explosions, blue and purple and orange energy blasts flashing through the air, buildings crumbling around him, Chitauri gliders flying around Mechasm warriors. He woke in a cold sweat after his dream-self flew through an Eliatrope portal only to find Chitauri hiveships on the other side, all their massive guns pointed at him, and when he turned to fly back through the portal it was gone and Loki was laughing at him.

_Tick-tock._

Jarvis told him he’d been on the Mechasm ship for three days. Tony could feel every minute of it, stubble on his chin and the stench of sweat collecting on his clothes. It still wasn’t as bad as the caves - for one thing, nobody was torturing him - but he still had flashbacks, bad enough to leave him in a limp gasping heap on the floor under the worktable. He also had more visions, flashbacks or flash-forwards: Eliatrope children screaming and dying, Mechasms sweeping across a burning landscape, dragons roaring their grief and their fury. He tried to stay away from the pulsing blue lines of energy running through the buildings, and mostly it worked.

When he had the core of the Elia-arc-reactor mostly functional, he ran into a snag: Qilby’s notes called for tuning it to the communications frequency of the Mechasm ship, but not only was Tony not sure how to do that, he was pretty sure that the Mechasms would notice as soon as he tried. Jarvis had said they could intercept his comms protocols, which meant that they were most likely watching and listening, in case the Eliatropes tried to contact Tony. Tony’d instructed Jarvis, one of the times Ferronox was out of the room, to tell him if Jarvis spotted any Mechasm snooping, but he was all too aware that, first, Jarvis might not be able to catch them unless they let him, and second, that it was easily possible that the Mechasms could prevent Jarvis from alerting him.

For that matter, Tony couldn’t shake the fear that the Mechasms had already compromised Jarvis more deeply, that they were using the AI to listen in while Tony reviewed Qilby’s notes. He kept reminding himself that if the Mechasms knew about the crystal, knew that Tony was trying to recreate the sabotage that had started the war in the first place, they wouldn’t sit around waiting for him to finish - they’d just kill him.

But he still spent every waking minute with his stomach in knots and his heart in his throat.

“Is something wrong?”

Tony nearly jumped out of his skin; barely managed to not drop the pliers he was holding. Ferronox’s voice was loud in the quiet of the lab, booming down from above him as the Mechasm added, “You have not moved for quite some time.”

“I’m fine,” Tony said hurriedly. His heart thudded in his chest and he sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm down. “I’m fine.”

“Then why have you stopped working?”

“I’m thinking,” Tony said. It came out sharp, and he looked up in time to see Ferronox’s eyes shutter and dilate, purple light flashing. “This isn’t exactly easy, y’know.”

“I am aware,” Ferronox said. “The ability to Build is a rare and precious talent.” It paused, then added, almost hesitantly, “Is there anything I can do to assist?”

Tony blinked. Maybe it was just that he was still stuck on memories of Afghanistan, but he couldn’t quite wrap his head around why Ferronox was being… _nice_. Like, he was pretty sure there should be more threatening, more _do what we say or die_ , when you had a prisoner you were forcing to build something for you. Yet Ferronox hadn’t threatened him at all, had been quick to provide everything Tony asked for, had even done the hilarious cliché of tucking Tony into bed when he’d passed out from exhaustion. Maybe it was a weird cultural difference - maybe the Mechasms had prohibitions about prisoner cruelty or something - but given how they’d kept Thor and the Eliatrope man, Tony doubted it. No, something else was going on here, something that probably had to do with the near-reverent way Ferronox said _Build_.

Maybe Tony could use it to his advantage.

“Yeah, actually,” he said. “There might be something you can do.” He took another deep breath, bracing himself, then said as casually as he could manage, “You can tell me exactly what you want to do with this thing after I build it.”

Ferronox’s eyes shuttered again, and something in its posture shifted, so that it gave the impression of closing in on itself. “That is not your concern,” it said.

“Actually,” Tony shot back, “it kinda is. You want me to make a thing for you, but I need to know what I’m building it _for_. I’m not an Eliatrope, I can’t build an Eliacube. I’m building a… a heart, what you asked for, but a heart needs a purpose. I can’t make it work if I don’t know what ‘work’ means.”

Ferronox stared down at him, eyes clicking and spiraling. Tony wondered, briefly, if the eyes were the only way Mechasms showed emotion, or if they had some other form of body language, one that a human couldn’t pick up. It’d certainly be helpful to know what Ferronox was thinking, to know whether Tony had pushed too far, whether the Mechasm was annoyed or angry or just indifferent.

Finally, though, Ferronox said, “All right. I will show you.” It held out its hand, palm up; when Tony hesitated, it added, “You should see for yourself, Builder."

_Okay, this is… odd._ Tony’d hoped Ferronox would have said, “We’re planning to use it to power a Death Star laser to blast Emrub into oblivion” or something, which was horrible but would’ve let Tony ask to see the control center, which in turn would have let him figure out how to link the Elia-reactor into the ship’s systems. He hadn’t expected Ferronox to be the one to suggest a field trip. And there was something about how Ferronox said it, something grim and almost… mournful?

_You’ve been a captive WAY too long_ , _Stark_. Stockholm Syndrome was the last thing he needed.

Still, he wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity. “Sure,” he agreed. He jammed his pliers into his pocket, scooped up the half-finished Elia-reactor in one arm, and carefully climbed onto Ferronox’s hand. Like before, Ferronox lifted him up onto its shoulder, and Tony settled himself against the decorative bolt. The Elia-reactor hummed quietly against his chest, pulsing in time with his heartbeat, _tick-tock_ , and Tony let its familiar rhythm soothe him as Ferronox limped out of the workroom.

They walked for several minutes, and again Tony couldn’t help but notice how empty the corridors felt. They saw only a handful of other Mechasms, who bustled past with barely a glance at Ferronox or its human passenger. Tony debated commenting again on the lack of people, but Ferronox hadn’t taken the question well the first time, and Tony didn’t want to push his luck, not when Ferronox was cooperating.

Finally Ferronox came to a stop in the middle of a long hallway. Long dark windows ran most of the hall’s length; squinting through them, Tony could just make out the upper half of a massive room beyond. Ferronox made no gesture Tony could see, but abruptly lights began to blink on in the room, starting at the outer edges and working their way inward. Tony leaned forward a little, trying to see down to the bottom of the room—

—and then the lights at the center of the room flared to life, illuminating the room’s occupant, and Tony sucked in a sharp breath.

Despite the alien trappings, he could tell it was some sort of hospital or hospice room. Dozens of cables and tubes ran from machines around the room’s edges to a single bed-platform-suspension rig-thing in the middle of the room, where a single Mechasm lay motionless. It was one of the bigger kind, with disproportionately huge shoulders and arms, a narrow waist, and a tiny head with a pair of long thick antennae that stretched up on either side like horns. Its chest was decorated with two plates or badges, similar to those on Ferronox’s chest, one on the right breast and one in the center. But on the left side of the chest, where a third plate clearly should have been, where a human’s heart would be, was only a gaping hole, filled with deep red light like blood.

“This is Orgonax,” Ferronox said, its voice soft and almost reverent. “The last of our Builders. Do you know of it?”

Tony hesitated. “I know the name.” He thought he was being pretty tactful by not mentioning that Orgonax had very nearly committed genocide against the Eliatropes.

But Ferronox seemed to know what he wasn’t saying; it said, “You know what the Eliatropes told you.”

_Interesting._ “So what would you tell me?” Tony asked.

Ferronox shifted, its purple eyes shuttering open and closed as it looked down at Orgonax through the window. “I would tell you that our people are not birthed or hatched, as Eliatropes are. We are Built, by those few who have the skill. Ages ago, we lived in peace with the Eliatropes. Our Builder Malevax had only recently Built Orgonax, who was also a Builder, and Malevax’s heir. We thought to share our joy with the Eliatropes, and so we sent Orgonax to meet them. But when we did, the Eliatrope Qilby stole Orgonax’s heart.”

Tony froze. Remembered Jahanna saying, _Qilby was the man who started the war with the Mechasms and nearly wiped out his own people._ Remembered Qilby’s voice from within the crystal, _Just as Eliatropes draw power from the dichotomy of life and death, so do the Mechasms draw power from the dichotomy of time and space. Wakfu and stasis are powerful in their own right, but that energy which comes from the flow of space through time is far better suited to the Zinit’s needs._ Remembered the discussion in Emrub, the realization that the Eliacube Loki had used briefly in the throne room of Asgard during the Infinity War, the Eliacube the Mechasms were tracking, had belonged to Qilby.

“He put it in his Eliacube,” Tony whispered, horrified. “That’s why you were looking for it. That’s why you only noticed when that cube was used, and not the other one—”

“Yes,” Ferronox agreed softly. “Qilby, in his arrogance, decided that his desires were worth our child’s life. He joined Orgonax’s heart with his Eliacube and used it to power his Zinit.” Ferronox paused, the lights in its eyes flickering restlessly; Tony could hear gears shifting and metal groaning deep inside its chest. “Thanks to Malevax’s efforts, Orgonax did not die, but it was badly weakened. We fought to retrieve the heart, but Qilby was merciless. He had plied Malevax with friendship, and knew where to strike to hurt us the worst: He directed his attacks to destroy our Builders. Malevax, who was tending Orgonax, survived, but the rest…”

Ferronox shook its head, falling silent for a moment. Finally it continued, “We have tried many things to restore Orgonax. Malevax was able to create a replacement heart, and it worked for a time, long enough for Orgonax to hunt down the Eliatropes and attempt to regain its true heart. But the Eliatropes defeated Orgonax instead, and hid themselves once more.” Ferronox made a soft metallic groan, almost a sigh. “Malevax was already old, and it put all it had into Orgonax’s replacement heart. It died shortly after Orgonax left to hunt the Eliatropes. We thought all was lost. Then our scout ships found Orgonax drifting through space, alone and nearly dead. They brought it back here, and since then we have kept it alive. Barely. But we cannot restore Orgonax’s heart.”

Ferronox paused again, its head twisting unnaturally to look up at Tony on its shoulder. “Orgonax is our last Builder. Without a Builder, our people are dead. It is only a matter of time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whole bunch of puzzle pieces coming together in this one. If something doesn't make sense, let me know - I've been working on this plot point for so long that I'm going cross-eyed...


	37. Maybes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“J’aimerais tellement que ça se passe différemment, pour une fois.”_  
>  -Wakfu S2E20, “Le Zinit”

Ferronox’s words hung in the air, rang through Tony’s mind like the last chime of a clock: _Orgonax is our last Builder. Without a Builder, our people are dead. It is only a matter of time._ He felt sick. It was impossible to know whether Jahanna - or Loki - knew the truth of what Qilby had done, whether they’d deliberately lied to Tony and the other Avengers or whether Qilby had hidden his treachery from his descendants. And it was equally impossible to know whether Ferronox was lying to Tony, whether the story was nothing but a ploy to gain his sympathies. But if it was true, it meant that if Tony went through with the plan, if he helped keep Qilby’s Eliacube out of the Mechasms’ hands, he’d be condemning the entire Mechasm race to extinction.

He sucked in a breath, tried to think. First things first, he could at least narrow down the possibilities. “How do I know you’re not lying?” he asked Ferronox. “A sob story like that, seems awfully convenient. Get me thinking about the evil Eliatropes who left me behind, who carved up your poor innocent kid? Maybe convince me to jump ship and join your team—”

Ferronox did that unnatural head-tilt again to look up at him. “I do not care with whom you affiliate yourself, Builder. Nor do I care how you view us, or the Eliatropes. You are not Mechasm; I do not know what morals your people might possess to which I could appeal, if you have morals at all. I only ask that you restore Orgonax’s heart.”

_Alrighty, then_. Tony tapped his fingers against the Elia-reactor’s casing, _tick-tock, tick-tock_. “So you guys never tried, y’know, _talking_ to the Eliatropes? I mean, it sounds like Qilby was nuts, but the ones I’ve met seem reasonable enough.”

“We tried,” Ferronox said flatly. “Qilby is the aspect of Mind, and as such is adept at charming his Eliatrope siblings to his will. They believed his lies, and followed him in attacking us.”

“Okay, well—” Tony cut himself off abruptly. “Wait. You said ‘Qilby _is_ ’. Present tense. You think he’s still alive?”

“He is of the First,” Ferronox said. “Any death he suffers is temporary.” It made a low rumbling noise in its chest, almost a growl. “We can never be rid of that traitor.”

“Um,” Tony said carefully. “What would you say if I told you he really is dead? At least I think he is. The Eliatropes figured out he was a total douche and a waste of oxygen. I don’t know what they did, but they all refer to him in the past tense and there’s a new girl in town calling herself the living embodiment of the aspect of Mind.”

Ferronox stared at him, purple eyes shuttering and whirring. “How can you be sure?” it demanded.

Tony hesitated. “Uh… I don’t know, I mean, I didn’t realize that it was going to be an issue so I didn’t ask about specifics…”

“Does she have a dragon sibling?” Ferronox asked. “A dragon born from the same Dofus. Only the First are born so.”

“Yeah, she does,” Tony said. Remembered Yugo saying _All the Eliatrope Six and their dragon siblings are hatched that way_. “She said they were hatched from an egg. A Dofus.”

Ferronox considered that for a moment, then made a contemptuous noise. “So Qilby is dead and replaced. It makes no difference. The Eliatropes still have Orgonax’s heart.”

“Look,” Tony said. “They don’t want to fight, they just want to live in peace, flowers and sunshine and whatever. Let me go back there, let me talk to them. Once they know the truth, they’ll give the heart back and everyone can go on their merry way. No fighting required.”

“You truly believe that,” Ferronox said doubtfully.

“Yeah, I do,” Tony said. Made his voice confident, like he was pitching a new strategy at a board meeting rather than trying to stop a war that could result in double genocide. “Let me talk to them. We can make this so much easier.”

Ferronox’s eyes shuttered again, while Tony’s heart pounded _tick-tock_ against his chest. Finally the Mechasm said, “I will speak with the others. If they agree, we will try as you suggest.”

“Good,” Tony said, and he could hear the relief in his own voice. “That’s good.” He settled back against the decorative bolt as Ferronox started walking again, back toward the workroom. This wasn’t what he’d expected, not by a long shot, but maybe it meant they could settle this peacefully.

( _Remembering Fandral’s horrible injuries, Queen Frigga’s pained gasps. Remembering the Eliatrope children screaming in his visions, remembering Phaeris’s charred body falling to the ground.)_

Maybe no one else would have to die.

*             *             *

“Maybe we _should_ just kill them all,” Jahanna said suddenly, and Loki looked up from where he sat beside a sleeping Thor, sharpening the blade of his scepter. Jahanna sat against the stone wall of one of the small side rooms of Grougaloragran's cave, cross-legged on the flower cushion Amalia had made for her, staring into space while rubbing her pregnant stomach absently. Loki knew the waiting was taking its toll on her; it was taking its toll on all of them.

It had been three days since they'd rescued Thor, since they'd left Stark behind as the lynchpin of Loki's plan. The Brotherhood, along with the serving boy Ragnvaldr and the Avengers' green beast, were keeping busy caring for the Eliatrope children. The rest of the Avengers spent their time grumbling to each other and testing their weapons against the wildlife of Oma Island in order to feed the hundreds of unexpected mouths. Thor mostly slept, drifting in and out of consciousness; during one of his waking periods he'd mentioned that the Mechasms had drugged him to keep him complacent while they studied him, and Loki was loath to force his recovery. Jahanna, Norns bless her sly heart, had claimed exhaustion from the first portal and confined herself to the same chamber where Thor rested, giving Loki an excuse to watch over his brother.

Although if he was honest, watching Thor sleep wasn't much better than sitting with Tikalukatal and Jane Foster, waiting at Jane's portal device for the signal from Stark. He was more nervous than he should be; all the pieces were in place and they'd even found Thor alive, meaning that the Mechasms almost certainly wouldn't have simply killed Stark out of hand. Yet there was still a risk, and while he'd decided it was worth it when he'd come up with the plan, Loki was finding it harder to justify it now. His wavering was stupid, and he knew it - Stark was an Avenger, and Loki was all too aware of what Thor’s friends thought of the madman who’d unleashed an alien army upon their world - and yet.

He kept thinking about how Stark had been the one to make the first offer of reconciliation, back in the Sadida Kingdom when Loki had thought to use the Avengers' paranoia to keep them out of Emrub. How Stark was genuinely curious about magic, and it was still strange, still childishly satisfying, to hear such honest interest from one of Thor’s friends. How for all Stark ran his mouth like a jester in the dwarven court, there was never any real malice in it, and that, too, was so unusual from a friend of Thor’s that Loki wasn’t entirely sure how to respond.

Which made it all the more difficult to sit here and do nothing while they waited for Stark to signal them, and Loki could very nearly see where Jahanna was coming from.

“It'd be safer," she continued, "and all we'd have to do is alter the parameters of the spell so that it jumps to every Mechasm ship instead of just the one.”

Not that Loki was about to let her go through with it, no matter how much he sympathized. “But we would be destroying an entire race,” he pointed out. He set the scepter aside, slid across the floor to lean against the wall beside her. “Is that something you want on your conscience?”

She sighed. “I want to know that our child - our children,” because he knew as well as she did that Chibi and Grougaloragran were as much their children now as the one not yet born, “will be safe from the Mechasms forever. We thought they were gone twice now. We thought we were safe. And every time there's fewer of us left.”

“I know, love,” he said gently, and put an arm around her shoulders. She burrowed into his side, burying her face against his chest, and he wrapped his other arm around her. “But this will work. Whatever reason the Mechasms have for holding a grudge cannot stand against the threat of extinction.”

“You hope,” she said, and muffled as her voice was he could still hear the bitterness in it, the frustration. “Why can't we be rid of Qilby's legacy? It's been so long and yet he still haunts us.”

“We'll be rid of him soon, I promise,” Loki said. “We just need to—”

“ _Loki_ ,” a voice cut in sharply, and a moment later Captain Rogers appeared in the doorway, puffed up and visibly fuming. “There you are. We need to talk.”

Loki fixed him with the glare that normally set even Thor aback, but Rogers just crossed his arms and scowled down at Loki and Jahanna where they sat on the floor. “It's been three days,” he said, voice nearly a snarl. “How long are you planning to leave Tony up there?”

“Until he signals us,” Loki answered as levelly as he could.

“And if he can't?” Rogers demanded. “We're sitting on our asses babysitting _children_ while you twiddle your thumbs. What if he needs us? What if he's trying to signal us and you miss it sitting in here—”

Jahanna lifted her head from Loki's shoulder, and Rogers had the decency to back down a little under her annoyed stare. “Tikalukatal is watching the focuser,” she said, and Loki could hear the effort it was costing her to keep her voice calm. “He can spot the signal sooner than any of us. Just _be patient_.”

It was the tone of voice she used on Chibi and Grougal when they misbehaved, and it seemed to have some effect on Rogers because he sighed and uncrossed his arms. “Look,” he said tiredly. “Stark's my friend. A... shield companion, I think you'd say. I know you don't give two shakes about us, but you're asking an awful lot for us to just sit by while he's in danger.”

Loki licked his lips. Rogers’ words hit a little too close to home, a little too close to what Loki himself had been thinking only a few minutes ago. To cover the slip, he glanced over at Thor, asleep on a blanket on the other side of the little room. “I do understand, Captain,” Loki said quietly. “Know that were there any other way, I would not be asking this of you.”

Rogers followed his gaze to Thor, clearly making the assumption Loki had intended. When he looked back at Loki, his jaw was set but some of the fight had gone from his posture. “One more day,” he said, half-offering, half-ordering. “If we don't hear back from Tony by then—”

Jahanna jerked upright so abruptly that one of her fox ears clipped Loki in the chin. “Tikal has a signal,” she said breathlessly. “He's got a signal!”

Loki shoved to his feet, pulling her up with him; Rogers took a half-step forward, eyes wide. “Stark?” he demanded.

Jahanna’s eyes unfocused as she communicated with her dragon brother. “Tikal says Jane Foster says it’s definitely him. The energy signature matches his arc reactor.”

Her hands were moving as she spoke, summoning a portal in the center of the room. Loki stepped toward it and nearly ran into Rogers, who was also going for the portal. He grabbed the captain by the shoulder and pushed him back toward the caves. “Get your men together,” Loki ordered. “Get ready to defend against the Mechasms, should they come for us. The Eliatropes will prepare the spell.”

But Rogers dug in his heels stubbornly. “What about Stark?”

“I’ll get Stark,” Loki snapped. “I can slip in and back before the Mechasms know I’m there. Now _go_ , we’ve little time.”

For just a moment, Rogers didn’t move, his expression openly suspicious as he stared at Loki. “Fine,” he said finally. “But you’d better bring him back alive.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Or you’ll kill me, yes, I know.” He turned back to the portal, keeping his expression annoyed and his posture careless, but he was painfully aware of the weight of Rogers’ glare against his back. He had never promised that they’d all live through this, and he knew Rogers knew it, but he also knew how fine a line he was walking here. If Stark didn’t come back alive, the Avengers would place the blame squarely on Loki’s shoulders. He had faith that they’d be professional enough to handle the Mechasm problem first, but after that, there would be Hel to pay.

_So just bring Stark back alive_ , he told himself firmly. He was Loki, God of Lies and Mischief. He’d defeated the frost giants and a titan; he’d outmaneuvered the son of a luck god and an entire nation of scheming would-be conquerors. He could handle an army of spacefaring killers and bring Stark back alive and unharmed.

He hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was hoping I could get to the action in this chapter, but this story is determined to be paced at the speed of molasses. That said, it looks like I'm gonna be leaving you guys with quite the, ah, _interesting_ Christmas present when I go on holiday hiatus after the next chapter... }:]


	38. Out Of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sometimes there isn’t a way out, Tony.”  
> - _The Avengers_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those of you who've been following me since the beginning know what's coming: it's the holidays and I'll be doing all the holiday-related stuff for the next few weeks. Therefore, **_La Legende Eternelle_ will be on hiatus until Tuesday, January 13**. Have a safe and happy holiday, everyone, and I'll see you in the new year!
> 
>  
> 
> ~~...if you'll have me~~  
> 

Ferronox left Tony in the workroom while it went to meet with whoever “the others” were that it wanted to talk to. It didn’t give Tony any idea how long that would take, so to pass the time, Tony went back to tinkering with the Elia-reactor. If all went well and they got Orgonax’s heart back from Qilby’s Eliacube, then there would be no need for the Elia-reactor, but Tony was kinda pleased with some of the modifications to the arc reactor design he’d made based on Qilby’s notes, and he wanted to see if he could get the thing working while he still had access to Eliatrope tech. And if all _didn’t_ go well… Tony tried not to think about what would happen if all didn’t go well.

Working also meant he could mull over Ferronox’s story, try to decide whether Jahanna and Loki had lied about anything (or whether Ferronox had), whether there was anything Tony’d missed that might make this whole thing fall apart. There were still some holes in the story that made him uneasy - like how had Qilby put the heart into his Eliacube and why hadn’t anyone noticed before, and had the Mechasms _really_ ever tried talking to the Eliatropes because honestly Tony couldn’t believe that none of the Eliatropes had been willing to listen long enough to stop the destruction of their world. Maybe if he could just get the Mechasms and the Eliatropes in the same room and talking instead of trying to kill each other, they could figure it out, but not knowing in advance made him nervous.

Since Ferronox wasn’t around, Tony pulled out Qilby’s crystal again, listening for what felt like the millionth time in the hope of either hearing something to close the holes, or at least to finish the Elia-reactor. Qilby talked at length about his plan for disabling the Mechasm ship and using _its_ power source for the Zinit, but how he’d gone from that to using Orgonax’s heart instead, Tony wasn’t sure. Maybe he’d found something when looking at the ship’s power source that made him realize he needed something bigger, stronger, although Tony would’ve thought that a spaceship’s power source would be stronger than a Mechasm’s heart. And he didn’t think the Mechasms would have fallen for the same trick twice, so how had Qilby gotten his hands on Orgonax long enough to take the heart?

He was still puzzling over that, screwing the protective shielding back over the Elia-reactor’s core and putting some final touches on its mount points, when the door at the other end of the workroom slid open and Ferronox came limping back in. Tony looked up to greet him, his mouth open to ask how the discussion had gone, when he realized that Ferronox’s eyes had shuttered down to furious pinpricks and the blasters in the middle of its palms were glowing with angry purple power.

Before he could say anything, Ferronox snarled, “Traitor! _You_ are Qilby’s scion, _you_ are the one who intends to carry out his legacy!”

Tony froze. “What?”

“They suggested we watch,” Ferronox said. Its voice was still flatly metallic but Tony could hear the undercurrent of rage. “To make sure you were not lying to us. We heard Qilby instructing you. We saw how often you have consulted him since I let you begin work.”

_Ohshit_. Tony managed to say, “Jarvis?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Jarvis said. “They overrode my protocols.”

“Dammit,” Tony said. His heart thudded against his chest, _tick-tock_ , and his body felt frozen in place. Ferronox stomped to a halt before him, looming over him with purple eyes glowing. Its face was still horribly blank, expressionless, even as it raised its hand to point the blaster at Tony.  

Tony grabbed the Elia-reactor and dove to the side, the heat from the blast enough to singe the skin of his bare arms even as shattered bits of workbench and equipment and stone pelted him. He scrambled to his feet, barely managing to dodge another blast, and bolted around the side of the building. He could hear Ferronox’s steps as it moved around the worktable to get a better angle on him, and used the sound to keep Eliatrope buildings between him and it even as he scrambled along the length of the worktable. He had a vague idea of getting to the wall, maybe finding another duct and hiding, but even if he did that it’d only last so long, he was on the Mechasm ship and trapped unless he found a way to signal Loki—

Another blast sent chips of stone slicing through the air directly in front of him, and Tony skidded to a halt barely in time to avoid being shredded. Ferronox was ahead of him now, inside the U of the workbenches, clearly anticipating where Tony was trying to go. Which meant Tony couldn’t go that way, so… He ran to the outer edge of the table and, before he could chicken out, jumped.

The worktables were Mechasm-sized, some thirty feet tall, and while Tony had practiced taking falls without the armor, he’d never done it for real before. But the practice paid off as reflex kicked in: he hit the ground limp, folded, and rolled, and when it was over he hurt everywhere but he didn’t think he’d broken anything. Including the Elia-reactor, which he’d somehow managed to hang on to, and he stuffed the thing under his shirt and bolted for the wall.

Ferronox was no slouch; it took only a few seconds to realize where he’d gone, but there was a reason it was so damn hard to squash a bug scuttling across the floor: when you were that much bigger than your target, they could anticipate your moves a lot more easily than you could anticipate theirs. Tony dodged two more blasts, trying to stay at an angle that would force Ferronox to either lean way out over the table or duck awkwardly under it. He spotted a vent set into the base of the wall - thank God for physics making alien labs need roughly the same safety systems as human ones - and scrambled toward it. He could hear Ferronox shouting behind him, something about _traitor_ and _monster_ , but he tuned the words out, focusing instead on the whine of the blaster in Ferronox’s palm. He dodged one last blast, then the vent was in front of him and he dove between the slats and into the darkness beyond.

*             *             *

Tony should have had no idea how long he’d been hiding in the ducts - usually in situations like these his time sense was the first thing to go - but he knew he’d been running from the Mechasms for one hour, seventeen minutes, and twenty-three seconds.

Twenty-four seconds.

Twenty-five.

His heart hammered against his ribs, his legs ached from running, his shirt stuck to his chest with sweat. The Mechasms had some way of tracking him; he’d encountered a dozen booby traps where high-pressure gasses blasted across his path or vents had been closed to try to funnel him toward capture. It had occurred to him that they might be tracking the Elia-reactor somehow, and that it’d probably be safer to ditch the thing, but he needed it if he was going to signal Loki. But the traps made him gladder than ever that Loki had insisted on casting the protective ward on him, even if he knew Loki’d only done it because Loki had planned for Tony to get captured, and Tony was _so_ going to punch the guy the next time he saw him.

Twenty-six seconds.

Twenty-seven.

He was running mostly at random, except that whenever he found a trap intended to steer him somewhere, he looked for a way to go in the opposite direction. It mostly worked - at least, he hadn’t been caught yet - but he needed to find shelter, find a place where he could signal Loki from, where he could do something other than run in circles until he collapsed from exhaustion and the Mechasms caught him.

_Tick-tock._

A hiss to his side was his only warning before a blast of superheated, high-pressure air shot into the tunnel. Tony lunged forward, then as more nozzles opened, forced himself to run faster, lungs burning, legs throbbing. He could see light spilling into the duct from another vent up ahead, brighter than the dim blue glow of the Elia-reactor he’d been using to see in the darkness of the ducts. A vent meant that there wouldn’t be those high-pressure nozzles for that span, so he could rest for a minute, and he put on more speed. The pressurized air scraped at his skin, throwing him off-balance, and he stumbled, nearly fell, regained his feet—

—just in time to see the vent cover pull away and a Mechasm’s hand reach into the opening.

Tony didn’t have time to react, couldn’t have stopped in time no matter how much he wanted to. The hand was right in front of him, waiting, and all he could think was how much it would hurt when that hand closed around him and blasted him to smithereens—

Static in his ears and his eyes, he was still moving, the light was all wrong and it took him a few seconds to realize that he was on the other side of the waiting hand with no idea how he’d gotten there. He couldn’t have run past it, couldn’t have run through it - but he didn’t have time to stop and think, because the Mechasm attached to the hand seemed to realize something was wrong and was now groping around the duct and Tony had to take off running again.

_Tick-tock._

Eight minutes and thirty-two seconds later, he finally got a respite when he found a narrow junction of ducts that had no high-pressure nozzles, no internal vents to spew blinding noxious gases, no external vents where Mechasms could reach for him. He gave himself five minutes to rest, the seconds counting down with atomic precision in the back of his mind as he sat on the floor and tried to breathe. The Elia-reactor glowed in his hand, a cold blue that made the whole place seem surreal, dreamlike. It was pulsing softly, insistently, and slowly Tony’s exhausted brain realized that it was in time with a deep throbbing hum coming from someplace nearby.

It took effort to get back to his feet, to start moving again, but he followed the hum through the ducts. Which maybe was a stupid idea, if the Mechasms had decided to try a new tactic for luring him, but Tony had also finished the thing’s linking mechanism. Qilby’s notes had said that it would automatically sync with a Mechasm power source if it got near enough, and maybe, finally, luck had turned Tony’s way.

The hum led him to a vent that looked down over a wide room filled with Mechasms. Viewscreens or viewports - maybe both, as the display alternated between an astonishing view of a starfield, and some kind of graphs or charts - lined most of the far wall. Below them were rows of control panels, manned by half a dozen Mechasms barking orders at each other. Tony paused a moment to listen, hoping to hear something that would tell him how to escape, but they were talking about something called a wakfu disruptor, arguing over whether it was ready to launch and whether they were close enough - to what, they didn’t say - for the thing to work.

It had to be the ship’s bridge, or whatever the Mechasm equivalent was. There were signs of a recent fight: scorch marks along the walls and panels, some of which were too wide to have been from a Mechasm blaster; dents in the wall plating; deep furrows where a dragon’s claws had scored the metal. Probably Steve’s team had fought in here, days ago when they were distracting the Mechasms from Thor’s rescue.

Tony took a deep breath. The Mechasms in the room didn’t seem to know he was here yet, although that wouldn’t last very long - but if he could get the Elia-reactor to do its thing, then he wouldn’t need very long. He sank down against the side of the duct next to the vent, where he could still hear them in case someone raised an alarm, and held up the Elia-reactor.

“Come on, baby,” he muttered. “Daddy needs you to do your thing.”

He’d added a few knobs and switches to replicate - hopefully - some of the fiddly magitech bits Qilby had talked about, and now he started flipping them, dialing up the power and tuning the frequency until it perfectly matched the hum coming from the ship’s power source. The Elia-reactor’s glow brightened, its blue core swirling like the Tesseract - then it pulsed and a low double chime echoed in the duct, and the glow settled into a steady rhythm.

Tony let out a breath. “Good girl,” he whispered. The double chime meant it had linked properly to the power source, so now all Tony had to do was signal Loki and the Eliatropes, and he’d be out of here in no time. He tapped the button on the side that would send a radio broadcast piggybacked on the power source’s longwave: an MP3 of "Search and Destroy" he’d pulled from his phone. He’d thought it was appropriate yesterday when he’d built it; now, knowing about Qilby and Orgonax, he wasn’t so sure. The Elia-reactor chimed again in acknowledgement and Tony let his head fall back against the wall of the duct in pure relief.

Then the floor exploded beneath him.

Tony hit the top of the duct hard enough to stun him, then he was falling and barely managed to grab hold of the lip of the vent cover to keep from plunging down through the hole that had opened up where he’d been sitting. The Elia-reactor was gone, flung away in the explosion, but he didn’t have time to worry about it. He could see Ferronox and another Mechasm below him, peering up through the hole in the duct, and Tony desperately flung himself to the side an instant before Ferronox’s hand reached up to grab him. He landed hard on the broken edge of the duct but rolled to his feet, running away as fast as he could.

Orange and purple blasts slammed into the walls around him, close enough to scorch his hair, and Tony took the first turn he found so they couldn’t keep shooting at him. Except that without the Elia-reactor for light he was lost in the darkness, the light coming from behind him fading with every step, and he nearly ran into the wall at the next junction before he saw it. He turned again, following the bend deeper into the ship, one hand on the wall for guidance, his heart pounding _tick-tock_ against his ribs. He could feel blood dripping down his cheek, his arms, his back; knew that shrapnel from the explosion had done a number on him. He didn’t dare stop to find out how bad it was.

Seconds ticking by in his brain, becoming a minute, becoming two minutes, and Tony began to think he’d lost them again, that he still had a chance. Then another explosion ripped through the duct. It missed him by all of five feet and Tony staggered backward, but the floor behind him exploded too, and suddenly he was falling again, tumbling through a huge open space and he was going to die when he hit the floor, he was falling way too far, but there was a Mechasm’s silver-grey shoulder in front of him and he grabbed desperately for it, fingers scraping painfully against the metal before they found purchase against a seam. He felt his shoulder pop from its socket but he slowed down enough to grab a decorative bolt with his other arm, and when his fingers slipped off that, another seam, and then he was only thirty or so feet up and he went limp for the fall.

Something crunched in his ankle when he hit the floor and pain shot up his leg, but he still managed to roll and not break anything else. His dislocated shoulder screaming in agony, he shoved himself to a sitting position - only to find himself looking up at Ferronox.

“Traitor,” Ferronox spat. “Scion of Qilby the Traitor. Eliatrope shill, false Builder.”

Tony scrabbled backwards along the floor, trying and failing to get his feet under him. “It’s not what you think,” he said desperately. “I’m—”

“I do not care what you say,” Ferronox said. Its hand came up, purple light glowing in the middle of its palm. “We have suffered too long from the Eliatropes’ madness. It is time to end it.”

“You’re making a huge mistake!”

“I am saving my people,” Ferronox ground out. “The wakfu disruptor is finished. You have signaled the Eliatropes, and they will reveal themselves. When they do, we will strike and they will die. We will restore Orgonax’s heart and regain our lives. The Eliatropes will plague us no more.”

Tony’s back hit the wall and he slid sideways, trying to watch Ferronox and look for an exit at the same time. “We can still talk,” he stammered. “Talking is still an option, I really was telling the truth about that—”

“ENOUGH!” Ferronox roared, loud enough to make Tony jump. His shoulder hit another wall - a corner - and his stomach sank.

_Backed into a corner and nowhere left to go_ , he thought bitterly. _Great job, Stark_.

Ferronox loomed over him, and Tony could hear the telltale whine of its palm blaster charging, the purple light flaring painfully bright. He had his mouth open to say something, anything to try to stall, when Ferronox fired.

*             *             *

The first blast destroyed most of the human’s right side, his arm gone, his torso a charred black cavity. His eyes were still open, his mouth still working - still trying to lie his way out, even now - so Ferronox shifted its aim. Its second shot took Tony Stark’s head.

Ferronox fired again, the ache of betrayal dark in its heart, the loss of Orgonax still painful even after so many eons. It fired again, and again and again and again, until nothing was left of the human save a charred bloody smear in the corner.

The pain in its heart had not lessened, but there was nothing else to do here. Ferronox turned away and limped back to the control room.


	39. Madman’s Legacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They say that the best weapon is the one you never have to fire. I respectfully disagree. I prefer the weapon you only have to fire once.”  
>  _-Iron Man_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 2015, everyone! Hope your winter festivities treated you well ~~and that you haven't completely abandoned me after the horrible thing I did last chapter...~~.

Yugo could feel the Eliacube well before he arrived on the beach where Jahanna, Tikalukatal, and Adamaï had set up around Jane Foster's far-caster. Eliacubes, actually - he could sense the slow calm pulse of Nora's as well as the faster, restless singing of Qilby's. When he landed through his final portal on the sand, he saw that Jahanna had already absorbed Qilby's cube, her arms, legs, and face lined with brilliant blue wakfu lines. She and Tikalukatal were holding open a portal, presumably for Loki to go to the Mechasm ship and recover the Xelor Tony Stark. Loki must have moved fast - Yugo had felt Adamaï's summons barely a minute ago and raced over from the side of the mountain, but if the portal was open it meant Loki was already through.

Behind him Yugo sensed the wave of portals as the Eliatrope children caught up to him, landing in a rough circle around him, Jahanna, and the dragons. They'd practiced this, had gone over it several times while they waited for Tony to signal them, and Yugo was proud to see that the children did exactly what they were supposed to: straightening out their circle, grasping their neighbors' hands, and sitting down on the sand.

"Ad?" Yugo said, but Adamaï was already at his elbow, holding out Nora's Eliacube.

“Be careful, bro,” Adamaï said solemnly.

“I will,” Yugo replied, and grinned at him. Adamaï rolled his eyes, but Yugo could tell he was trying not to smile back.

Yugo took the Eliacube, letting it float between his palms for a moment and feeling his smile fade. This wasn't the first time he'd done this, even before the Mechasms came, but he still hated doing it. It brought back too many bad memories, of Nox and Qilby, of pain and death and grief. But the children were watching him, and though Jahanna's attention was mostly fixed on her portal, he knew she, too, was waiting. He swallowed hard, then summoned the Eliacube into himself.

It boiled up his arms and into the core of his being, filling him with incredible power, slowing down the world around him until he could see every living thing on the island and in the ocean around them, bright blue points of wakfu moving within the greater flow of the world itself. Jahanna was a fierce glowing beacon, her own Eliacube multiplying her presence a millionfold and nearly drowning out the tentative soft glow of her unborn child. The dragons were steady towers of energy threaded through with stasis, while the Eliatrope children were a riot of light, restless and eager and scared. And somewhere overhead, the faintest echo of a soul resonated with the cube he’d absorbed: Nora, still shielding the planet. Yugo could feel all their minds brushing against his, and he felt it when Jahanna reached out to gather their minds to her.

They'd practiced this, too. Jahanna was the aspect of Mind, and thus it fell to her to manage, direct, and sustain the Eliatropes' concentrated willpower. Yugo would then channel that power through the far-caster to the link Tony had created to the Mechasm ship, activating the spell to destroy the ship's power sources. But first they needed to wait for Loki and Tony to come back through the portal, which Jahanna and Tikalukatal still held open. Yugo could feel the strain of it on her, as she split her attention between an impossibly distant portal and the mind-link, and even as he reached out to give Adamaï a mental nudge, he felt his brother reach for him. As one, they eased their will into the portal, taking over some of the effort of sustaining it. Jahanna's gratitude flashed through the mind-link, and he was distantly aware of the smile she gave him in the physical world.

Then the Eliatrope girl Rettah said suddenly, “Do you feel that?”

*             *             *

Ferronox studied the starfield on the control room display. The wakfu disrupter prototype had done its job far better than anyone could have expected. The mortals who’d investigated the thunder-god’s disappearance had carried it with them when they’d left the golden world, and the Mechasm engineers had tracked its beacon to this distant corner of the Krosmos. They couldn’t pinpoint its exact location, but this was the sector where they’d found Orgonax those many millennia ago, drifting alone and near death after its last attempt to retrieve its heart. That was no coincidence - the Eliatropes were here, somewhere, hiding like the thieving cowards they were.

Ferronox would not allow them to escape again.

“Have the Eliatropes acted yet?” it asked one of the controllers.

“We have not detected anything,” the controller said. It gestured at the display, sending rivers of blue rushing in to cover the starfield. “This region has an extraordinarily high background level of wakfu—” _(Likely what drew the Eliatropes to the area in the first place_ , Ferronox thought,) “—which is wreaking havoc on our sensors.”

Ferronox considered the display for a moment. It didn’t particularly want to wait for the Eliatropes to act - Tony Stark had been trying to signal them to do to Ferronox’s ship what Qilby had done to Orgonax’s shuttle - but it had been hoping any action they took would first require them to come out of hiding. “We cannot afford to wait too long,” it said. “What is the range on the disruptor?”

“Roughly six thousand waves in diameter,” the other controller answered. “Not enough to cover the entire sector.”

“No,” Ferronox agreed. In its memory it replayed the moment they’d found Orgonax, not so far from this spot. Replayed the layout of the stars, of the flow of time and space. It lifted a hand and pointed to a spot on the display. “Send the disruptor here and activate it.”

“Are you sure?” the first controller asked, but Ferronox could see it had already entered the commands, its hand poised over the launch button.

“Yes,” Ferronox said. “This ends now.”

The controller blinked acknowledgement and pressed the button. All three of them watched on the display as the wakfu disruptor came into view from its launch bay at the bottom of the ship: a silver-gray sphere a hundred times Ferronox’s height, marked with lines of orange light. Its guidance engine steered it to the spot Ferronox had indicated, then detached and returned to the ship. For a moment the disruptor simply floated there, a tiny mote of light against the immense blackness of space - then the controller activated it.

Orange light flared along its panels and it spun in place like a planetoid on its axis. The control room display flashed as the wakfu map suddenly lit up, the rivers of wakfu changing course to flow toward the disruptor. It began to spin faster as the first tendrils of wakfu reached it, drawing them into itself. Ferronox waited, trying to ignore the nervous whirring of its own gears—

The display flashed again, painfully bright, then a planet appeared within the starfield, just at the edge of the disruptor’s range. The wakfu map overlay showed the thin delicate shield of wakfu that had been hiding it, even as the shield succumbed to the wakfu disruptor and began to peel away from the planet.

 _There_. Relief flooded Ferronox, that the gamble had worked, that it had judged correctly. They’d found the Eliatropes, and soon they’d have Orgonax’s heart back and be rid of the accursed creatures forever. Ferronox tapped into the warriors’ communication channel. “We found them,” it announced. “Prepare to att—”

The display flashed a third time. Ferronox looked up just in time to see a bright beam of wakfu, curved by the disruptor’s influence but unerring in its target, stretch out from the planet and slam into the ship.

*             *             *

Yugo recognized the feeling even as dread gripped him: a tugging on his soul, just like when the foreigners had first arrived and he’d lost himself to their Mechasm device. It was distant, not as insistent as the sphere had been, but it was also getting stronger by the second. Inside his head he could hear a faint cry of pain: Nora, as her soul was torn away from where she’d enveloped the planet. As her protection peeled back Yugo felt the pull double in intensity, felt the flow of the wakfu around him shift upward, to where a horribly powerful sphere - and the Mechasms who wielded it - lurked unseen in the vastness of space.

 _No,_ he thought, and the other Eliatropes echoed him, minds in perfect synchrony with his own, dread and terror ricocheting through the group—

 _No_ , and Jahanna caught their fear and bound it, focused it, and for a moment Yugo thought their combined willpower would be enough to protect them from the Mechasms’ weapon—

Nora screamed again and Yugo felt her wakfu vanish, and the weapon’s pull increased again, a hundredfold. Yugo couldn’t focus on anything except the weapon, the portal for Loki and Tony spinning shut as he and Jahanna both turned all their attention to fighting its pull, and somewhere in the real world Adamaï and Tikalukatal were both screaming—

_NO!_

Yugo almost didn’t catch the surge of power Jahanna sent to him; it was only their practice that kept him from losing it. He knew what it was even past the relentless call: the spell to destroy the Mechasms’ power sources. Almost without thinking he pushed the spell into the far-caster, just like they’d practiced, just like they’d planned. Even though it was futile, even though it wouldn’t matter that they’d taken one ship hostage when the rest of the Mechasm fleet could find them and kill them, and the Eliatropes, trapped by the sphere, would be helpless to stop them.

It was only after the spell was gone, streaking through the Krosmos toward its target, that Yugo realized Jahanna had altered the parameters to send it to every Mechasm ship in the fleet.

He had an instant to think a horrified question at her, to feel her anger and determination in response: _If we can’t stop them from killing us, we can at least stop them from killing anyone else_.

Then they were both lost, consciousness spinning away into the depths of the Mechasms’ weapon.

*             *             *

Warning klaxons screamed in the control room, and Ferronox heard the ship’s deep voice say, “Forward power source overloaded. Load dispersed to auxiliary sources.” Ferronox hadn’t been there when Qilby shut down Orgonax and its shuttle all those millennia ago, but from the sound of Tony Stark’s notes, this would be much the same: the beam would deactivate every power source it found, jumping from one to another until the ship and every Mechasm on it were down. This ship would be temporarily disabled, but the ships in the nearby sectors - plus the rest of the fleet, which Ferronox had summoned the moment it had realized Tony Stark’s treachery - would arrive shortly, and their engineers would be prepared to restore the ship and its crew.

The Eliatropes would not win. Not this time.

Ferronox tapped back into the warriors’ comm channel. “Launch,” it ordered. “Find the Eliatropes. Kill them and any allies that might defend them. Ensure no trace of the Eliatropes or their technology remains on that planet.”

As the warriors confirmed departure, Ferronox flipped to the comm channel for the next-closest ship, their patrol partner in the next sector over. “We have been compromised,” it said. “Prepare to send engineers once the Eliatrope attack has ended.”

It barely heard the acknowledgement from the other ship as its own ship warned, “Auxiliary power sources overloaded. Load dispersed to aft power source.”

“This isn’t right,” one of the controllers said from where it stood in front of the display, its voice worried. “The Eliatrope spell should be shutting down the power sources, not overloading—”

It broke off as the ship spoke again: “Aft power source overloaded. Source ignition imminent. Blast containment safeguards activated.”

An explosion rocked the ship, sending them all staggering, and Ferronox almost missed it when the controller cried out and clutched at its chest. Its heart was glowing, visible behind its protective paneling, and the controller clawed at the panels desperately. The other controller moved to help - and this time Ferronox saw the flash of light, blue wakfu jumping from the injured controller to its companion, and the second controller’s heart, too, lit up.  

 _No_ , Ferronox thought, horrified. Their hearts should be dimming, not brightening, and even as Ferronox thought it another explosion echoed in the far reaches of the ship. If the power sources were exploding instead of going dark, then it wouldn’t matter that engineers were coming: the ship and everyone on it wouldn’t just be deactivated - they’d be dead.

“All power sources overloaded,” the ship said, and Ferronox could hear the fear in its voice. It knew it was about to die, and it knew the explosion would destroy Orgonax, their last hope.

The first controller screamed. Its heart flared bright orange and Ferronox barely had time to duck for cover before its heart exploded and it collapsed lifeless to the floor. Ferronox scrambled of the control room as the second controller’s heart began to spark. Ferronox didn’t think the spell had reached its own heart yet, although if it stayed here any longer, it most certainly would. It activated the launch sequence to send itself down to the planet spinning far below them.

The Eliatropes were about to finish what Qilby had started eons ago. Ferronox would make sure that they paid.

The last thing it saw before the launch sequence spun it away was the tip of another bright wakfu beam, jetting out from the side of the ship in the direction of their patrol partner. 


	40. Stop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Enough!"  
> - _Thor_

Tony was dead.

He’d been blinded by Ferronox’s energy blasts, scorched by their heat, and even as the explosions finally faded away he couldn’t bring himself to move. He was pretty sure that the moment he did, he’d stand up out of his body and a skeleton in a black robe would tell him in all capital letters that it was time to move on, like in those British movies Pepper loved. So Tony just watched, frozen, as Ferronox turned away. Watched as it stomped tiredly back into the control room.

Watched as gold light flashed a little ways up the hall and Loki appeared from beneath a veil, wide-eyed and clutching Tony’s Elia-reactor in both hands.

“Stark!” Loki shouted. A moment later he was kneeling beside Tony, the Elia-reactor swirled away into hammerspace and his hands hovering over Tony like he was afraid to touch him. “Stark,” he said again, then when Tony didn’t answer, “ _Tony_.”

With effort, Tony managed to turn his head to look up at him. “Am I dead?” he whispered. “I’m dead, aren’t I.”

Loki stared at him for a second, then his teeth flashed in that strange dark smile and he looked away - but not before Tony caught the relief on his face. “No,” Loki answered softly. “You can’t be dead. They’d never let me into Valhalla.”

“...Oh,” Tony said. There was something else behind Loki's words, but Tony was a little too busy trying to process that he was still alive, so he filed the thought away for later and just tried to breathe. “Okay then.” The universe shifted, coming back online along with Tony’s awareness of his own pulse, his heart pounding in time, _tick-tock_ , to the rhythm of the universe.

Loki licked his lips, then shifted, his posture and expression suddenly becoming businesslike. “How badly are you hurt?” he asked.

“Shoulder,” Tony managed. “And my ankle. How am I not dead?” He tried not to wince as Loki’s fingers ghosted over his shoulder, down his leg, assessing the damage.

_tick-tock_

Loki frowned, hands settling on Tony’s arm and shoulder, and for a moment Tony thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then he said absently, “The same way the Mechasms have not yet noticed us.”

“You greenscreened me?” Tony said. “But I felt—” He broke off with a cry of pain as Loki’s hands moved, pulling Tony’s arm up and over his head - and Tony’s dislocated shoulder snapped back into place. “Dammit!” he gasped. “Warn me next time.”

“You would have tensed and made it worse,” Loki said calmly. Tony glared at him, but the pain was already mostly gone and he couldn’t really argue. Loki ignored him, shifting to examine Tony’s swollen ankle. “You built your device well,” he added. “With its power I was able to shield you, if only just.”

“Oh,” Tony said again. “Uh, thanks, then.”

_tick-tock_

He swallowed. The pain fading from his shoulder had left room for a sudden sick wave of fear and anger, that he’d almost died, that he’d been alone and helpless and it was Loki who’d done it. “Hey, Loki,” he said.

Loki lifted his head—and Tony punched him as hard as he could across the face. It was a stupid thing to do - for all that Loki _looked_ slim and delicate, he was still an alien capable of walking away from a beating at the Hulk’s giant green hands - and Tony realized it even as pain flared up his arm, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Before Loki had time to do anything other than look startled, Tony hit him again. And again, and again, and again, ignoring the pain in his hand, his arm, until Loki grabbed his wrist and held him immobile. “What are you _doing_?” he demanded.

“Don’t you ever,” Tony snarled, and didn’t care that his voice shook, “ _ever_ pull shit like that again.” He yanked against Loki’s grip on his wrist; Loki let him go, still looking more startled and confused than hurt. Or contrite, and Tony fought the urge to punch him again. “You left me to _die_ ,” he snarled. “You—”

“Not to die!” Loki protested. “I—”

Tony ignored him, talked over him until Loki shut up. “You _left me to die_ , you son of a bitch. I read Barton’s file, I know what he told you about us. You knew about Afghanistan, you knew what the Ten Rings did to me, you thought Thor was dead, and you _left me here anyway_. I spent the last three days thinking I was building the Mechasms a weapon to _kill kids_. Thinking they were going to kill me as soon as they realized I wasn’t. They almost _did_ kill me, if I hadn’t run, if you’d been five seconds later—”

But even as he spoke, Loki’s expression closed down into cold distant annoyance. He said coolly, “I’m sorry for upsetting you—”

“ _No_ ,” Tony snapped. He leaned closer, distantly glad that they were both sitting down because it put them at nearly the same eye level. “No, you don’t get to just go ‘sorry, my bad’. I almost _died_. That’s not how you treat people, Loki, don’t you get it? I know you don’t think we’re people but we _are_ , we’re _people_ and you don’t just… just throw people to the wolves like that. And I know your dad did it to you, and I don’t know, maybe it’s okay in Asgard to send your friends to die, but it’s _not okay to me_. It’s _not_.” He had to stop, to suck in a breath before he did something stupid like choke up or have a panic attack. Loki was staring at him, green eyes wide, and Tony glared back. “You don’t _do_ that,” he repeated, but quieter this time, because if he started shouting again he’d just end up hysterical and that really wouldn’t help anything.

Loki was still staring at him, and Tony couldn’t read his expression. He looked young and strangely scared, and Tony wasn’t sure if he should be annoyed that Loki was trying to manipulate him or relieved that he was maybe getting through to him. Finally Loki licked his lips, then carefully lifted a hand. Tony flinched back as Loki reached for him and Loki hesitated for just an instant, but then clasped Tony’s neck the way Tony’d once seen Thor do to Loki.

“I apologize, Tony Stark,” Loki said softly. There was an odd formality in the words, in his voice, in the way his green eyes met Tony’s across a space that was way too close for humans but which Tony knew from watching Thor was normal for Asgardians. And maybe Tony’s head was still scrambled from his injuries, but it sounded honest. Sincere. Especially in contrast with the flippancy of his first apology, and maybe Tony really had finally gotten through to him.

_tick-tock_

Loki was still watching him like he was waiting for a response, so Tony said, “Okay,” and nodded. “Okay, good.” He tried a smile, and must have come close enough because Loki tightened his grip on his neck for a moment before letting go. Tony thought maybe he should say something else, something more, but suddenly the ship shuddered beneath them and warning klaxons blared to life, echoing up and down the hallway loud enough to make Tony’s back teeth hurt.

Tony caught Loki’s eye. “Time to scram?”

“Indeed,” Loki said. He shifted to Tony’s other side, pulling Tony’s good arm across his own shoulders. Tony had a second to brace himself, then Loki stood, pulling Tony with him. He had to close his eyes against a wave of dizziness, his stomach lurching and pain flaring through his ankle, along the various cuts and bruises all over his body. For a bad moment he thought he was going to go right back down to the floor; only his arm over Loki’s shoulder and Loki’s grip on his waist kept him vertical. “Ow,” he muttered. “Got any healing magic in your spellbook?”

“I’m afraid not,” Loki answered. He started walking, and if he was mostly carrying Tony, well, he clearly had the strength for it and anyway it was his fault Tony was injured in the first place, so he could just deal. “But we’ll be back on Oma Island shortly, and Jahanna can—”

He stopped abruptly, and Tony opened his eyes to see him staring up the hall in horror. “What?” Tony asked.

“The portal’s gone,” Loki said.

_tick-tock_

“ _What_?” Tony repeated. He had to have misheard, he had a concussion, he was in shock. “No. No, you just lost it or something—”

“I didn’t lose it,” Loki said, annoyance momentarily replacing the horror. “I veiled it to keep the Mechasms from sensing it, but I know where it was, and it’s gone.”

Tony swallowed hard. “Fine,” he said, and tried to ignore how his blood ran cold. “Why did it close, and what do we do now?”

“Two very good—” The floor rocked beneath their feet, sending them stumbling. Tony, barely standing as it was, lost his balance entirely and would have fallen if Loki hadn’t kept him upright. He could hear shouting from the control room nearby, glanced through the doorway in time to see one of the Mechasms in the room stagger, its heart flaring with brilliant light.

A Mechasm voice sounded from somewhere in the room, _All power sources overloaded,_ and Loki hissed through his teeth. “They released the spell early,” he said. “Something must have—” He broke off again, staring through the control room door at the giant display panel. Tony followed his gaze and spotted the image of the starfield - and the Mechasm sphere, just like the one that had trapped Yugo but a million times bigger, floating near a small blue planet. “No,” Loki whispered. “No!”

Tony’s stomach dropped. He’d planned to tell them not to do it, not to use the spell at all, that if they could just give Orgonax’s heart back then no one had to die. But he was too late.

_tick-tock_

The Mechasm in the control room cried out, its heart flaring painfully bright, and Loki flung Tony to the ground and threw himself on top of him. Tony cried out as the fall jarred his injuries, the world fading out for a second, two seconds, three - then the pain subsided again, just in time for him to hear the Mechasm explode. Loki curled more closely over Tony, shielding him with his own body, heat blasting past them and bits of shrapnel bouncing off Loki’s leathers.

“What in the Nine?” Loki gasped. He rolled off Tony in time for both of them to see the second Mechasm’s heart begin to spark and flare. “It was only supposed to affect their power sources, not the Mechasms themselves—!”

Tony’s brain skipped and stuck, pieces falling into place even as he let Loki drag him back to his feet. Qilby had targeted a shuttle but come away with Orgonax’s heart, and succeeded in killing almost all the Mechasms’ Builders when the other Eliatropes could barely survive the assault of one. It had probably been an accidental discovery, but once Qilby knew that the Mechasms’ hearts were the same as their ships’ power sources, it would have been an invaluable weapon.

_tick-tock_

He opened his mouth to tell Loki but Ferronox came crashing out of the command room, the lights on its chest pulsing rapidly. Loki dragged Tony to the side of the hall, out of its path, gold glittering around them as he struggled to maintain the veil, but Ferronox vanished before it reached them.

_tick-tock_

“No,” Loki said again. His green eyes were too wide, flicking frantically between the hall where the portal had been and the display panels showing the Mechasm sphere that had forced the Eliatropes’ hand, showing the blue line of the Eliatropes’ spell arcing outward from the ship. “We have to—”

_tick-tock_

The Mechasm warning voice sounded again: _All power sources overloaded. Source ignition imminent. Blast containment safeguards insufficient._

_tick-tock_

Tony’s head spun. Everything was moving too fast, the explosions, the spells, Ferronox, Loki. They had to get off the ship, but where could they go? Even if Loki could do his wormhole trick to get them off the ship before it exploded, firstly they were in the middle of space and had nowhere to go; and secondly Tony had no doubt Ferronox had teleported to the planet far below. It would tear through the trapped and helpless Eliatropes long before Loki and Tony could get down there to help. And that was if they managed to get off the ship in the first place; the alarm voice was repeating its warning and Tony could all but feel the power building up under his feet—

_tick-tock_

The first explosion was far enough away that they felt it mostly as a shudder through the ship, but the second was closer and alarm klaxons wailed their despair. Loki gestured with his free hand, summoning the Elia-reactor from hammerspace and muttering under his breath, but they didn’t have time, things were moving too fast, Tony needed a second, just a second, to _think_ but he didn’t have a second, didn’t have any time, everything was happening too fast and he just _needed time_

_tick-tock_

and

_tick-tock_

Tony

_tick-tock_

said

_tick_

STOP.

*             *             *

Loki stared.

Tony had gone rigid, his hands snapping together in front of him, thumbs and forefingers interlocked, remaining fingers extended, in a gesture Loki knew from the Brotherhood’s tales of the mad Xelor Nox. The world had taken on a faint bluish tinge, and Loki felt like he was moving through water, thick and slow. Tony’s Elia-reactor hummed in Loki’s hands; he could feel wakfu pulsing through it, out from it, surrounding Loki and shielding him - mostly - from whatever it was Tony had just done.

Loki looked again at Tony, at his eyes that had gone blue-white with power, at the ghostly white circle on his chest where his arc reactor had once been.

Not _whatever_.

Looked at the Mechasm sprawled on the floor of the control room, frozen mid-spasm, the frantic pulsing of its chest lights stopped mid-pulse. Looked up at the display panels, which showed the ricocheting Eliatrope spell hanging motionless in space.

A spell.

Somehow, Tony Stark had stopped time on the Mechasm ship.

_Well_ , Loki thought. _That works._


	41. Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Dans quelle galère on s’est encore fourrés?!”_  
>  _“La même que d’habitude, sauf que cette fois on n’a aucune chance de s’en sortir.”_  
>  -Wakfu S2E09, “Le Monde de Rushu”

Tony Stark had stopped time.

Loki wasn’t quite sure what to think of that.

He watched silently as Stark’s toes lifted up off the floor, the power of a Xelor sending him to float a few feet in the air, his body still rigid. His whited-out eyes were wide, his expression one of surprise, and as Loki watched, Stark slowly turned his head from side to side, staring at the frozen Mechasm, at the spell hanging in place on the display. ( _And Loki sincerely hoped that the actual spell was frozen, not just the image on the display, but they could deal with that once they’d escaped the ship._ )

“Uh,” Stark said warily. “What’s happening? What am I— No, _how_ am I doing this, what’s going on, I’m not a sorcerer, what’s—”

His voice was rising, bordering on hysterical, and Loki interrupted hurriedly, “You’ve stopped time, Stark. I recommend you not think overmuch about it for now—”

“That’s your advice for everything,” Stark complained. “But I think about things, it’s what I do, I’m a _scientist,_ I’m _not_ a _sorcerer,_ Loki, this isn’t—”

“Evidently you have _become_ a sorcerer,” Loki said briskly. “And you’ve bought us time to come up with an escape plan.” He didn’t add _I hope_.

“Escape plan,” Stark echoed. “Right. About that. You can make wormholes, right? Without an Eliatrope, like you did during the Infinity War?”

“I can walk the hidden spaces between worlds,” Loki corrected him. “Though doing so in an unfamiliar place is exceptionally dangerous, and liable to get us exceptionally lost, if not exceptionally _dead_.”

“Dammit,” Stark muttered. He shook his head. “If we could just get back to the world we could end this war, give the Mechasms what they want—”

Loki frowned. “The Mechasms want the Eliatropes dead—”

“No,” Stark said sharply. He shifted to face Loki, mouth open to say something else, but staggered mid-air and nearly fell. Loki grabbed his flailing arm and held on until he’d regained his balance. “I’m floating,” Stark said. He sounded like he was about to go into hysterics. “I’m floating and I almost fell and I—”

“Stark!” Loki interrupted, and resisted the urge to slap him. “Ignore that for now. What do the Mechasms want, if not the Eliatropes’ destruction?”

Stark swallowed hard, nodding a little too rapidly, but seemed to pull himself together. “Orgonax’s heart,” he said, and when Loki stared at him, clarified, “Qilby stole it way back when and stuck it in his Eliacube. It’s how the Mechasms could track it, it’s why that one’s different—”

Loki only half-heard the rest, Tony’s explanation about the Mechasm Ferronox telling the story fading into the background as all the missing pieces of the puzzle fell into place. What Qilby had meant, recorded on the crystals, about power sources and Mechasms’ ships being powered by the flow of space through time. Why the Mechasms had kept Glip alive so long - they’d needed a test subject for their weapon, one that was as effective against the Eliatropes as what Qilby had done to the Mechasms. What the Mechasms would do, if they managed to find the Eliatropes.

Managed to find Jahanna, who had absorbed Qilby’s Eliacube and with it, Orgonax’s heart.

The world spun under Loki’s feet and he swallowed hard. They’d tear her apart to get it, and the Mechasms’ weapon meant she’d be helpless to stop them.

“Loki! _Loki!”_ Stark’s voice, and Loki made himself focus on the man, on the here and now. The Brotherhood was with Jahanna; they’d protect her until Loki could figure out how to untangle this. Stark was watching him worriedly, and while that was perhaps better than panicking over his newly-acquired talent for time magic, Loki needed his attention on the time spell that was all that was keeping them alive.

“I’m fine,” Loki said, the lie rolling easily off his tongue. “Just thinking.” Stark eyed him for a moment but accepted it, settling back into his linked-fingers pose. Loki licked his lips. “The Mechasms have a way of traveling between their ship and whatever world they choose,” he mused. “If we could convince one of them to switch off their weapon and take us back to Oma Island, with the promise of Orgonax’s heart in exchange…”

“That’d take a hell of a lot of convincing,” Stark pointed out.

Loki smiled, thin and with no real humor. “It would hardly be the first war I’ve talked out of existence,” he said. Then sighed and shook his head, glancing over at the Mechasm sprawled helplessly on the floor, a few frozen seconds from a violent death. “But we’ve no Mechasms even to ask, much less convince. They’ll all have succumbed to the spell—”

“Not all,” Stark breathed suddenly, and Loki looked up at him, startled. “It targets their hearts, right? And the whole goddamned _point_ of this is that there’s one Mechasm on this ship that doesn’t _have_ a heart—”

“Orgonax,” Loki whispered.

“It might work,” Stark said, and nodded at the Elia-reactor Loki was still holding. “I mean, I was building that to be his heart anyway, so all you’d have to do is get to him, plug it in, convince him that even though there’s nukes already in the air in both directions we can still stop this war. He shuts off the thingy, teleports us back down to Earth - not Earth, you know what I mean - we give him the heart and the Eliatropes stop their spell, and everyone goes home happy.” There was a painfully hopeful note in his voice, like a child asking its parents for a rare and precious treat.

Loki turned the Elia-reactor over between his palms. It hummed at him, nearly the same song as a proper Eliacube but with a melody that was uniquely mortal, uniquely _Stark_. “Your device is protecting me from your spell,” Loki said, and held up a hand to forestall the questions he could see on Stark’s lips. “If I’m successful in implanting it in Orgonax, it should offer him the same protection - though I am likely to lose it. You should be prepared to deal with Orgonax on your own when we return.”

Stark’s jaw worked, nervous tension in the lines of his expression, but he nodded. “Think you can find him?”

“If you truly made this for him,” Loki said, “then yes.” He reached up to grip Stark’s neck in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. “Your magic knows what it’s doing. Don’t think overmuch about it. I’ll be back with Orgonax as soon as I can.”

“Right,” Stark said. His voice was shaking and his eyes were wide, he was streaked with blood from a dozen wounds, and his ankle was hideously swollen - but his hands were steady in front of him and his jaw was set. Loki squeezed his neck again, mindful of Stark’s mortal frailty, then turned and ran out of the room, the words of a locating spell already on his tongue.

*             *             *

Evangelyne knew something had gone horribly wrong the moment she heard the dragons roar, felt the volcano beneath her feet shake and surge, felt the wind pick up above the trees. Adamaï was old enough now that his emotional state was starting to have a dangerous effect on his element - air - the way Tikalukatal affected fire, the way Grougaloragran had once affected earth and stone. Cra arrows could deal with many types of winds, but the gusts blasting Oma Island were going to be a problem if it came to a fight. And if Tikal got mad enough to set off the volcanoes…

“That can’t be good,” Amalia panted, and Eva glanced over at her. The jungle was too dense for even a Sadida’s vines, so Amalia was running beside Eva through the forest that ringed the base of Oma Island, with Tristepin and Ruel close behind. They’d been out with a group of Eliatrope children, gathering edible mushrooms and berries under Amalia’s direction, but when the Eliatropes had heard Jahanna’s call, Eva had sent them ahead. They could travel much faster than humans, and every second might count when opening the portal to retrieve Tony Stark.

But in the few minutes between then and now, something had gone terribly wrong, and Eva was afraid to find out what it was.

They broke through the tree line onto the beach and Eva slowed down for a moment, scanning the scene before her. Tikalukatal and Adamaï were both in dragon form, roaring at the sky. Adamaï was stamping his feet, tail lashing in frustration, but Tikalukatal wasn’t moving, and after a moment Eva realized why. He stood over the Eliatrope children, who sat in a circle in the middle of a wide, level stretch of sand, the aliens’ device in the center of the ring and Jahanna and Yugo facing each other on either side of it. The device itself was smoking, its edges melted and sparks still hissing from somewhere within its core; they must have already fired the spell. Loki was nowhere to be seen.

 _That’s definitely not good_ , Eva thought. They weren’t supposed to fire the spell until Loki was back with Tony Stark, plus it was obvious something was wrong with the Eliatropes. They were all slumped a little, heads drooping, eyes unfocused. Eva’s Cra eyes could just barely pick out the dim faded lines of wakfu traced on Yugo and Jahanna’s skin; she knew from experience that the lines should be much, much brighter. And then there were the dragons, who were visibly furious in the way they only got when their Eliatrope siblings were in trouble, just looking for something to lash out against.

Movement to the side caught Eva’s attention and she turned to see the Avengers, minus Loki’s brother, running down the beach from the direction of the entrance to Grougaloragran’s cave. They looked as wary of the dragons as Eva and her friends were, and as soon as they were within earshot Captain Rogers called, “What happened?”

“We don’t know,” Eva shouted back. She angled a little to meet them, still several hundred yards away from the dragons, with Tristepin, Amalia, and Ruel on her heels. “Where’s Loki?”

“He went to get Stark,” Rogers said. “Jahanna said they’d picked up Tony’s signal. Why are the dragons—”

He broke off as the other two aliens, Jane Foster and the Asgardian boy Ragnvaldr, appeared from the tree line and hurried over to them. “You can’t feel it?” Ragnvaldr asked, his voice worried. When they all shook their heads, he said, “It’s just like that sphere the Mechasms left in the throne room, only it’s everywhere, I can’t figure out where it’s coming from—”

“Sadida help us,” Amalia breathed, and Ruel muttered, “By Enutrof.” No wonder the dragons were angry.

“If the Mechasms used another sphere on the Eliatropes, then they’re probably about to attack,” Rogers said. He pointed at Jane and Ragnvaldr. “Go check on that wormhole device, make sure it’s not sending out anything the Mechasms can use as a homing beacon. And see if you can wake up the Eliatropes. Without upsetting the dragons. Natasha, go with them, keep an eye on them.”

They nodded and hurried off, Jane and Ragnvaldr pale and nervous, Natasha’s expression blank and collected. Rogers looked over at his remaining companions, at Eva and her friends. “Spread out, get ready. We have to assume the Mechasms will show up any second.”

Eva started to nod, then stopped, squinting over his shoulder. Loki’s brother Thor had just emerged from the trees, limping a little but walking on his own, an odd heavy hammer clutched in one fist. Rogers followed her gaze and frowned. “Thor!” he called. “You should stay in the caves—”

“I am no child, who needs coddling and concern,” Thor said, and despite everything Eva couldn’t help but be amused that he prickled _exactly_ the same way Loki did when someone suggested he wasn’t operating at full capacity. Thor joined them, keeping one eye on the dragons, and added, “This is my fight, Captain. These Mechasms attacked my family and my friends, in our home, and now they threaten my brother’s family and friends, and my heir.” He shot a glance at Jahanna where she sat in the middle of the circle. “Loki did not go to such lengths to rescue me so that I could sit by while you fight my battles for me.”

“Well said!” Tristepin grinned and clapped Thor on the shoulder, then added to Rogers, “This isn’t a time to keep all the fun to yourself. We—”

Purple light flashed and Eva shouted, even as she drew her bow, even as she leaped to the side and rolled, dimly aware of the others doing the same. The blast slammed into the sand where they’d been standing half a second before, close enough for the heat to singe her skin.

Mechasms. Four of them, materializing out of thin air a little ways up the beach.

Eva was firing before she was entirely upright again, a volley of arrows that plinked uselessly against the Mechasms’ armor. She heard Adamaï bellow, felt the ground shake beneath her feet as he ran, as he launched himself at the nearest Mechasm. Rogers was shouting orders behind her - “Banner! Thor! Get their attention, get them away from the Eliatropes! Hawkeye, cover me!”

Eva left them to it and darted sideways into the cover of the woods, dodging another purple blast and returning fire, not really aiming but laying down cover fire for Tristepin, who had joined with Rubilax and was bounding across the sand. Ruel had vanished - probably hiding like he usually did when the stakes got high - and Eva glanced around, looking for her princess—  

“Eva!” Amalia called, and Evangelyne spun to see her crouching in the shelter of a massive tree, both hands on the ground and green Sadida magic glowing between her fingers. Eva nodded acknowledgement and shifted a little ways along the tree line, far enough from Amalia to not call attention to her while she worked her magic, but close enough to intervene if the Mechasms went after her. The ground shuddered as thick trees sprouted from the dirt, sturdy trunks forming a solid line leading out from the woods across the sand toward the water, densely-woven branches stretching skyward and forming a barrier between the Mechasms battling the humans on one side, and Tikalukatal guarding the Eliatropes on the other. The impromptu wall wasn’t perfect - the Mechasms were too tall and while Amalia was the Sadida princess, she was still only one person - but it would at least slow the Mechasms down.

 _But if slowing them down is the best we can do_ , Eva thought grimly, _then we’re in trouble_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idiom Remingtom Smisse is using in the chapter quote doesn't translate well; according to the subtitles he's saying "What hell have we gotten ourselves into this time?!". Which is appropriate since they're _literally_ in the World of 12's equivalent of Hell.


	42. Split

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _‘À bientôt’? Je crains que vos amis seront terriblement déçu, dragon. Vous devriez avoir dit ‘adieu’._  
>  -Wakfu S1E16, “L’Eliacube”

Natasha ducked lower beside Jane's portal device to avoid Tikalukatal’s scales as the dragon crouched to dodge a stray Mechasm blast. Adamaï had launched himself at the Mechasms as soon as they'd appeared, but Tikalukatal had stayed put, feet planted firmly around the circle of Eliatropes. Jane and Ragnvaldr huddled together on the other side of the portal device; they'd had just enough time to determine it wasn’t still transmitting anything before the Mechasms had showed up. Overhead, the sky was darkening rapidly as Thor called stormclouds, and waves crashed against the sand as Adamaï’s power combined with Thor’s whipped the sea into a frenzy.

The Eliatrope children, and Yugo and Jahanna, still sat motionless in their circle, unfocused eyes staring at nothing. It was unsettling, and a frightening reminder of just how vulnerable they all were. Natasha had considered trying her widow’s bite on one of the kids to see if it could jolt them out of their daze, but almost immediately discarded the idea. They were children, however alien, and the risk of killing them far too high. But she needed to do something, needed to get the Eliatropes somewhere safe so Tikalukatal could join the fight—

Tikalukatal.

Natasha remembered, sharp and sudden, fighting Chitauri in the Asgardian throne room while Tikalukatal’s voice sounded in her head: _Tikalukatal has a better use for your talents, if you are willing._ The electric whine of the energy sphere that had snapped up around her, the blast of air as it had teleported her elsewhere in the castle. Another memory, standing behind Steve on a SHIELD base in New Mexico and staring at the gaping cavity where Tikalukatal, Loki, and Jahanna had been a moment earlier.

She turned to Jane and Ragnvaldr. “Stay here,” she ordered. “I’ll be right back.”

“Where—” Jane started, but Natasha was already moving, out of the circle of Eliatropes and across the sand to stand before the dragon.

“Tikalukatal!” she called. His eyes were narrowed, focused on the Mechasms beyond the tree line that had sprung up between them and him, and Natasha feared for a moment that he wouldn’t listen to her. She waved an arm, trying to catch his eye, and shouted again: “Tikalukatal!”

“ _What._ ”

It was barely more than a growl in the back of her mind, rocks grinding against each other almost too low to hear, and Tikal’s eyes never left the Mechasms. But he’d heard her.

“Can you teleport the Eliatropes away?” she asked. “Off this island, somewhere safe?”

“The Mechasms will follow,” Tikalukatal growled. “They will hunt Tikalukatal’s sisters and brothers to the ends of the earth and the Krosmos beyond—”

“We’ll hide them,” Natasha said, with more confidence than she felt. “And the Mechasms are busy here - if you send the Eliatropes away, you can help make sure they stay here.”

The dragon growled, low enough to vibrate Natasha’s bones even through the soft beach sand. In the distance, one of the volcanoes rumbled in response.

“We can protect them,” a wavering voice spoke up, and Natasha turned to see that Ragnvaldr and Jane had followed her out from the Eliatrope circle. Ragnvaldr continued, nervous but determined, “I know a bit of illusion magic. I can hide them—”

“And I can defend them,” Jane added. “Once, at least.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow at that, and even Tikalukatal finally looked away from the Mechasms to eye her skeptically. Jane lifted her chin, gestured back at her device. “I built that to open wormholes, just like the Bifrost, just like the Eliatropes, before Loki made it into a channel for his spell,” she said. “Thor told me what the old Bifrost could do, and I’ve seen what Eliatrope portals can do. I can’t promise that it’ll survive more than one shot, but if a Mechasm gets away from you long enough to find them again, it should hold them off long enough for you to get there.”

Someone cried out on the other side of the tree wall; thunder cracked and a bolt of lightning shot from the sky, the whole island shaking from its impact. Tikalukatal’s blue pupils flicked back to the battle, and even on his scaled face Natasha could read his hesitation, his fear, his fury. From the corner of her eye she saw Ragnvaldr open his mouth to speak, and waved him to silence. _Just wait_ , she thought. _He knows._

Then Tikalukatal nodded, his jaw flexing and smoke blasting from his nostrils. “Tikalukatal will do as you say,” he rumbled, and his massive head swung down and around to stare straight at Natasha. “He is trusting you to keep his sister and his people safe.”

Natasha nodded. Behind her Ragnvaldr pressed a fist to his chest and bowed, and Jane said, “We understand.”

The dragon moved, then, carefully stepping away from the Eliatropes as Natasha, Jane, and Ragnvaldr hurried back into the circle. A purple blast flashed by overhead and the trees rattled as more blasts slammed into them. A Mechasm head appeared above the trees, orange eyes flashing anger, then Adamaï leaped on it from behind and dragged it away. Tikalukatal flared his wings, growling; stood up on his hind legs and extended his foreclaws toward the Eliatrope circle. Blue light snapped into place around them, arcing in a dome high overhead, an electric whine singing in Natasha’s ears. The blast of an air horn and a momentary sensation of falling, then they were gone.

*             *             *

Ferronox had followed the energy signature of Orgonax’s heart to the tiny island in the middle of a vast ocean. It hadn’t been far behind the warriors, but when it landed a little ways up the beach it saw they had already encountered resistance: from the look of it, the same group of mortals who had attacked Ferronox’s ship and stolen its prisoners. Tony Stark’s companions.

The thought sent a flash of rage through Ferronox’s circuits and it felt the gears in its chest spin up before it forced itself to be calm. It had already punished Stark for his betrayal, and now it had more important things to focus on.

It took a moment to survey the battle. The four warriors held their own easily against the mortals and one dragon - Adamaï, if Ferronox’s memory served, though his relatively small size suggested he was still very young. The mortals were using many of the same hide-and-harry tactics they’d used on the ship, ducking into the cover of the trees and popping out again to strike from behind. One of them had taken to the air; Ferronox recognized him as the prisoner they’d taken from the golden realm. Out here, prepared for combat and with the elements at his disposal, he clearly posed far more of a threat than he had in the throne room. Even as Ferronox watched, he raised an arm to the sky, calling lightning, and flung it down to blast one of the warriors.

Ferronox lifted its own arm, intending to shoot him down while he was distracted - then stopped short. A familiar electric whine thrummed nearby, beyond the dense wall of trees on the other side of the battle. Ferronox shuttered its eyes, enhancing its optics, but the angle was wrong and all it could see was the black-and-red flare of a dragon’s wings before the electric whine was replaced by the sound of a great deal of air being violently displaced. The draconic teleport sphere, and sure enough, Ferronox’s internal scanners registered that Orgonax’s heart was no longer nearby, nor any Eliatropes. A moment later another dragon launched itself over the treeline: the red-and-black one who’d been on the ship, whom Ferronox’s analysts had failed to identify.

Ferronox stepped back around the curve of the forest, out of sight of the battle; it didn’t think anyone had noticed it yet and it wanted to keep things that way. Tony Stark had said Qilby and his dragon sister Shinonome were dead, replaced by a new Eliatrope and dragon pair; this could well be that dragon. It would mean Stark had been telling the truth about that, at least, and for a moment Ferronox wondered whether there’d been any other truth to his words. But even if there had, it didn’t matter now. Stark was dead, the Eliatropes helpless, and Ferronox so close to its goal it hurt.

It set its scanners to search for the energy signature of Orgonax’s heart. The dragon had teleported the Eliatropes somewhere, presumably to get them away from the battle, but if Ferronox could find them again while the dragons were here, distracted by the fight, it could retrieve Orgonax’s heart, wipe out the Eliatropes for good, and begin to rebuild its people.

*             *             *

The sand hemisphere landed with a bone-rattling thud; Natasha caught her balance and took a moment to look around. The storm-battered island was gone, replaced by high rocky walls and fiery desert heat. Their little hemisphere of sand and dirt sat at the bottom of a red stone canyon whose high walls narrowed sharply overhead, shutting out all but a thin sliver of sky. Sunlight slanted down to hit the floor a few yards away, but they had landed in a patch of deep shade cast by the folds of the walls. Although if this was the heat in the shade, Natasha hated to think how hot it would be in direct sunlight.

Except for the intense heat - and the fact that there appeared to be no sources of either food or water anywhere near - it wasn’t a bad place to hide. The canyon walls were too narrow and full of jutting folds for a Mechasm to easily maneuver through, and even if a Mechasm tried to shoot them from above, there would be plenty of places to take cover. And if there was no food or water, there probably wasn’t much by way of dangerous natives, either.

Natasha turned to Jane and Ragnvaldr, who were staring around uneasily. “Let’s move,” she said. “We don’t know if or when the Mechasms will follow us, and we need to be ready.”

“Right,” Jane said, and shook herself, then hurried over to her device and got to work pulling out wires and removing panels. Ragnvaldr went to the edge of their sand hemisphere and started walking around it, dragging his toe to create a line in the sand and muttering under his breath. Natasha watched them for a moment, but there wasn’t much she could do to help either of them. Instead she returned to the circle and knelt in front of Jahanna.

Jahanna’s dark eyes were unfocused, half-closed, staring into some distance Natasha couldn’t see. Her hands rested limp in her lap, below the curve of her pregnant stomach, and her shoulders drooped. Natasha hesitated - on the one hand, Jahanna was the oldest and probably the most skilled Eliatrope in the group; on the other hand, she was pregnant. But if there was any of the Eliatropes Natasha needed functional right now it was the Eliatrope of Mind, so she’d have to risk it. She cupped Jahanna’s jaw in both hands, lifting her head, trying to meet her gaze. “Jahanna,” she called, gentle, insistent. “Jahanna, you need to wake up. You need to come back. Jahanna.”

Nothing.

From the corner of her eye Natasha could see Jane watching her, biting her lip; could see Ragnvaldr press his lips together for a moment before going back to muttering the words of his spell. They thought it was a long shot at best. Natasha knew it was. But they needed Jahanna awake and functional, so she focused again on Jahanna’s eyes, on making her voice firm and authoritative. “Jahanna, wake up. Come back. Jahanna. _Jahanna._ ”

*             *             *

Loki ran through the halls of the Mechasm ship, ignoring the ache in his legs, in his chest as he pushed himself to run faster. He had risked tapping into the Elia-reactor, just a little, for more speed; the Mechasm ship was huge, meant for beings who covered in one stride the distance that took Loki ten, and Loki didn’t want to make Stark hold the time-stop spell any longer than absolutely necessary. Even so, it felt like an eternity before his locating spell led him to a door in a wall set with long observation windows. The door was sealed tight, like all the others Loki had passed, and he could see neither handle nor locking mechanism - not that either of those would be of much use to him, given the size difference involved.

A flash of despair nearly overwhelmed him: to get this far, only to be blocked by something as mundane as a closed door. He forced it down. He was Loki Laufeyson, slayer of the Mad Titan, and he would not give up.

He took a few precious seconds ( _not seconds, not really, while time was stopped_ ) to study the door. The seam between door and jamb was too small for him to slip through, and he didn’t have any of Agent Romanoff’s explosives…

...except he _did_ have something that could serve much the same purpose, if in a totally different manner.

Loki swallowed, licked his lips. In the years since he’d learned he was a frost giant, he’d come to terms with the idea, had even deliberately spent time in that form to learn what he could do. Jahanna had pointed out, rightfully, that Aesir prejudices aside, Jotun had unique and powerful abilities that might come in handy someday.

He just hadn’t expected _someday_ to come quite so soon.

He released his Aesir form, feeling the cold and the blue wash over him, watching them rush down his arms, revealing the scars that marked him Laufey’s heir. Tucked the Elia-reactor into a pocket and placed his hands on the bottom corner of the door where it met the jamb, and pushed all that cold back out into the metal. It was more difficult than he’d expected - his atmospheric protection spell had made him forget that the Mechasm ship wasn’t built to support organic life, that it probably maintained much lower temperatures than he was used to. He pushed harder, focusing his efforts on a space just big enough for him to squeeze through, feeling the metal growing colder and colder under his palms but not enough, and he dared once more to tap into the Elia-reactor, picturing the frozen wastelands of Jotunheim, the deathly cold of Niflheim—

—and then he felt it catch, cold sinking deep into the metal and rending it brittle, fragile, and he poured more cold into it until it cracked beneath his hands and he shoved, punching a narrow frozen hole through the metal. He squirmed through, mindful of the Elia-reactor bumping against his hip, and fell inelegantly to the ground on the other side of the door. The world spun sickeningly around him, his head throbbing in the way that meant he’d pushed his magic much too far, and for a moment he just lay there, feeling the blue drain away and his Aesir form return, trying to muster the energy to climb back to his feet. But he was already living on borrowed time, time which would only last so long as the heavily-wounded and exhausted Tony Stark could hold an incredibly powerful Xelor spell, so he forced himself upright.

Orgonax’s bier dominated the center of the room, surrounded by machines and wires and tubing. Loki clambered up through the mess to stand on Orgnoax’s massive chest. It was clear where the heart was supposed to go; a giant hole gaped on the left side of the chest, glowing a deep red-orange like blood. Loki crouched beside it and pulled the Elia-reactor from his pocket. It hummed and clicked in his hands, clearly sensing its purpose was near, but Loki couldn’t insert it just yet. Consciously or not, Stark had used it as the anchor to keep Loki from being affected by the time stop, which meant that if Loki stopped touching it, he’d no longer be protected.

_So don’t stop touching it_ , he thought.

He shifted his grip on the Elia-reactor, used a whisper of magic to lock his fingers around it ( _felt his head spin as he tapped his rapidly-waning power_ ). Braced himself against the edge of the hole, and held out Orgonax’s heart.

Power surged through the Elia-reactor, hard enough that despite his precautions he almost lost his grip. It strained against his fingers, trying to center itself in the hole, power lancing out into the red-orange depths of Orgonax’s chest. Loki felt the Mechasm’s body shudder, felt the Elia-reactor surge as it extended the time-stop protection to Orgonax. It wasn’t able to power Orgonax properly, not like this, not until Loki let go and released it to fully integrate with Orgonax’s body, but it was enough. Red-orange light flared along the lines carved into Orgonax’s chest, up and down its limbs, and finally up to its head.

And Orgonax’s eyelights blinked to life.


	43. Life or Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You can’t kill an entire race!”  
> “Why not? You would have killed them all with your bare hands.”  
> “I’ve changed.”  
> “So have I.”  
> - _Thor_

Evangelyne ducked a swing from a Mechasm's giant hand, feeling the wind from its passage tug at her hair. She was running across the beach, weaving between the legs of the bigger combatants in an attempt to reach Tristepin and Rubilax, who had fallen near the water line. She knew they were alive - her Cra eyes had spotted movement as they struggled to get back up - but they were badly injured and vulnerable.

Captain Rogers shouted from somewhere nearby and Eva reacted without thinking, bow coming up to snap off a volley of arrows at the Mechasm who had grabbed him. They hit the Mechasm's hand and froze over, ice coating its fingers, and the Mechasm had to drop Rogers and shake the ice off before it jammed its hand blaster. That had been a useful discovery, early in the fight, and Eva was doing everything she could to make use of it now. Rogers hit the sand and rolled away to safety under the shelter of Amalia's vines, and Eva turned her focus back to rescuing her husband.

She couldn't help but remember another battle, years ago on the Crimson Claws, when the sky had opened and Shushus had poured out. The Mechasms loomed overhead the same way Rushu had, and more than once Eva found herself wishing Goultard would show up out of nowhere again, like he had then, to pound their enemies into dust. But Goultard was still locked in Rushu's World, focused on making sure Rushu couldn't escape to try that again, and Eva knew no help would be coming.

Not unless Loki was still alive, and returned with a miracle or three.

*             *             *

_He is lost, spinning in darkness, in the vastness of the Krosmos, stars laced with wakfu swirling around him. He is alone, and it is terrifying, for always before - even when they had not yet met - he has had his brother. But now he is alone in the emptiness, and he is afraid._

Yugo.

_There is something he must do, but it too is lost, and though he struggles to remember, it dances away from him every time he gets near. He reaches and strains, but cannot find it, cannot remember what he must do._

Yugo.

_He can hear her calling, but does not know where she is. He searches, for he can hear the urgency in her voice. Maybe she remembers what it is he must do. But he must find her before she can tell him, and he cannot, because he is lost._

Yugo!

*             *             *

The first time the thought flickered through Natasha’s mind, she dismissed it as a wild idea born of desperation, too dangerous to consider further. After all, they were planning on using the portal device as a weapon against a Mechasm - how could an Eliatrope teenager possibly survive it? But it kept coming back, flashing through her thoughts, interrupting her attempts to plan an escape route through the canyons, pushing aside her worry for her friends back on Oma Island, even as she continued to call Jahanna’s name.

Finally Natasha sat back on her heels, dragging an arm across her face to wipe away sweat. The desert was stiflingly hot, and she wished they had water, but Jane and Ragnvaldr were busy with the portal device and she didn't dare risk leaving them - and the Eliatropes - alone to look for it herself. She could hear them muttering to each other as they worked, Jane flipping switches and reconnecting wires while Ragnvaldr scratched at the symbol grid around the device's base with a piece of chalk. Natasha was still trying to get through to Jahanna, to call her back from wherever the Mechasms' weapon had taken her, but if she was having any effect at all, it wasn't showing.

She pressed her lips together, thinking. Maybe it would be better to give up and focus on making sure they were protected from any Mechasms that managed to find them, to hope that Jane’s device would work, that the Avengers and the Brotherhood and the dragons could keep the Mechasms from finding them in the first place. Not that there was much Natasha _could_ do to protect them, out here in the desert with their only weapon Jane’s portal device. But she hated just sitting here, feeling the seconds tick by in her head, a grim reminder that the longer they heard nothing from the others, the more likely it would be that someone died.

_People die all the time_ , she reminded herself. _There's no magic law that says the ones you care about won't._ The important thing was making sure that they won. Which meant getting the Eliatropes back in the game. So Natasha settled in front of Jahanna again, reaching up to cup her face in her hands. “Jahanna!” she called again. “ _Jahanna!_ ”

Even as she spoke, the thought came back, but this time a memory surfaced beside it, incongruous and unexpected: Loki standing beside Jahanna in the treehouse patio, talking about the Mechasm sphere, saying _It was trying to attach to his wakfu. Drain it._ And then Natasha froze, and looked into Jahanna’s empty stare, and this time when she said, “Jahanna?” it was a question. She wasn’t sure how much of the _relief/yes/desperation_ she felt was her own, how much was Jahanna’s, but she _was_ sure that she’d made a connection, however faint, however tenuous.

She let go of Jahanna and turned to where Jane and Ragnvaldr were still working on the portal device. “Is it ready?” she demanded.

They both started, then looked around the canyon, clearly worried by the urgency in her voice that a Mechasm had showed up. When they didn’t see one, Jane turned back to Natasha and said, “Almost, I just have to—”

“Make it fast,” Natasha said. “I think we can use it to wake Yugo up.”

“What?” Jane said, startled, and Ragnvaldr added, “How?”

“When we first got here,” Natasha said, “Loki said that the Mechasm sphere was draining the Eliatropes’ energy. I think Jahanna’s trying to tell me that in order to wake them up, we need to pump more energy into them.”

They stared at her. Jane said, doubtfully, “You think we need to, what, jumpstart their batteries? Isn’t that incredibly dangerous?”

“Yes,” Natasha said.

Jane looked up at Ragnvaldr, clearly hoping for support, but the boy looked contemplative. He said, “Yugo absorbed the… one of the Tesseracts, right? It may protect him, if… in case it doesn’t work.”

“May,” Jane repeated, and looked back at Natasha.

“As far as we know,” Natasha said flatly, “Loki and Stark are dead or captured. Even if the Eliatropes got their spell off, there’s four Mechasms on Oma Island right now. Unless our guys manage to kill all of them, they’re going to come looking for the Eliatropes. And unless we can wake up the Eliatropes, they’ll kill them.”

Jane swallowed hard - then she nodded. “All right,” she said, and if her voice was a little shaky, Natasha pretended not to notice. “All right, we’ll try it.”

*             *             *

Red-orange light flowed along the lines of Orgonax’s body, pulsing in synchrony with the Elia-reactor. Loki waited, frozen, as Orgonax’s eyes shuttered open and closed, as it lifted its hands and flexed its pointed fingers curiously. They didn’t have time for any of this - Loki’s fingers ached from the strain of holding the Elia-reactor, his head ached from pushing his magic too far, and somewhere on the other side of the ship a battered and exhausted Tony Stark struggled to hold the time-stop spell - yet Loki knew that if he acted too quickly, if he rushed this meeting, Orgonax would not listen to him.

It felt like an eternity before Orgnoax noticed him where he was crouched on its chest, but finally - finally! - as it began to sit up, its orange eyes focused on Loki. Its metal head, disproportionately tiny against its massive torso, had no visible mouth or any features other than the eyes, but still Loki got the impression of surprise as it stopped to look at him. It spoke then, in a voice that creaked and scratched, as though whatever mechanism it used to create sound was stiff from disuse: “You are no Eliatrope, yet you wield wakfu like one. Who are you?”

Loki licked his lips, willed his voice to be steady. “I am Loki Laufeyson, consort of Jahanna who is sister to the dragon Tikalukatal. I ask that you listen to me, for we have little time.”

“It would seem we have as much time as we need,” Orgonax answered, “for the flow of time has ceased. Is it Chibi?” It shifted as it spoke, sitting up the rest of the way, one three-fingered hand lifting to slide under Loki’s feet and hold him in place.

Loki shook his head. “A mortal man, who holds the spell through sheer stubbornness. The moment he falters, we all die.”

Orgonax’s eyelights shuttered and flared. Then it said, “I will listen.”

“The Mechasms and the Eliatropes have gone to war,” Loki said quickly. “The Mechasms are about to kill the Eliatropes, and the Eliatropes are about to kill the Mechasms. I want to stop them both.”

“Why?” Orgonax asked. “If you are a friend of the Eliatropes, why stop them from killing my people?”

“Because Qilby is dead and gone - for good - and the price of his madness should not be the extinction of both your people and the Eliatropes.”

“Qilby cannot be gone,” Orgonax said, a growl in its rusty voice. “He is of the First—”

“—and the First recognized his madness, and found a way to pass on the aspect of Mind without it,” Loki interrupted.  He leaned back a little to better meet Orgonax’s eyes, put every ounce of honesty he could muster into his words. “I held Qilby while he died. I saw his wakfu dissolve. He is well and truly gone.”

Orgonax stared at him, its eyelights shuttering, gears grinding somewhere deep in its chest. Finally it said, “I believe you.”

Loki nodded, swallowed hard. The first difficult part was over; now came the second. “We can stop the war and save both the Eliatropes and the Mechasms,” he said. “But I need your help. The mortal I spoke of said that all your people want is your heart back. Is that true?”  

“My heart,” Orgonax said, “and Qilby dead. When we have both, we will leave the Eliatropes in peace for as long as they do the same.”

“Then I offer you this deal,” Loki said, and tried to pretend his mouth hadn’t gone dry, that his heart wasn’t racing in his chest. “Turn off the weapon the Mechasms used against the Eliatropes, and take the mortal and me to the Eliatropes. In exchange, we’ll return your heart and stop the spell that’s killing the Mechasms.”

“You ask me to trust you,” Orgonax said. “If I save the Eliatropes, what stops you from killing me and my people? Qilby wanted my heart for its power. You have no reason to give that up.”

“Qilby wanted your heart to power the Zinit,” Loki agreed. “But the Zinit has not moved for millennia, and the Eliatropes have other ways of traveling the Krosmos now. They do not need your heart. They don’t even know Qilby had it - none of us did, until the mortal found out and told me just a few minutes ago.” He swallowed, licked his lips. “King Yugo knows it was Qilby who started the war. He has a good heart. He would not wipe out an entire people if there was any other way.”

“Yet by your own words, the Eliatropes are about to wipe us out,” Orgonax said.

“Because we saw no other way,” Loki said. “But now we know about your heart. Now we can return it. We do not want death—” ( _remembering Jotunheim again, remembering the Midgardians screaming and dying, remembering Asgard in a golden ruin_ ) “—we just want peace.”

Something rumbled and scraped deep inside Orgonax’s chest. It said again, “You ask me to trust you.”

“Yes,” Loki said. “I know—”

The world _flickered_ around him, the floor rumbling beneath them, one wall beginning to buckle and heat flashing through the room before time froze again. _Stark_ , Loki thought, horrified. _He’s losing the spell_.

Orgonax’s eyelights blinked as it looked around; it too had noticed. Loki looked up at it, met its eyes once more. “Orgonax, please,” he said, and let his desperation, his fear, into his voice. “You are the only one who can save your people and mine both.”

The wait while Orgonax considered it was agony. Loki held his breath, trying not to move, trying not to scream.

Then Orgonax said, “I accept your bargain.”

*             *             *

Ferronox's sensors traced the paths of wakfu across the surface of the little planet. It could hear the battle raging just around the curve of the island, but it had faith in its warriors to hold against a handful of mortals and a pair of dragons. The warriors were old, yes, like all Mechasms were now, but they were battle-tested, and moreover they knew what they were fighting for.

The scan was taking time - too much time, it seemed, though in truth only the most infinitesimal fraction of a turn had passed. Still, Ferronox found itself grinding its gears impatiently, until finally, _finally_ , its sensors picked up the bright pinpoint of Orgonax’s heart, surrounded by the faint but distinct energy patterns of a group of Eliatropes. _Soon_ , Ferronox thought, a painful echo of the way it had once looked down on Orgonax and promised the return of its heart. The ship would have long since exploded, but Ferronox refused to allow itself to believe that Orgonax had been destroyed. The Builder had survived the Eliatropes’ concentrated efforts to destroy it twice now; it would not die this time.

And if it did… if the Eliatropes had destroyed Orgonax and the Mechasms’ last hope for survival, then at least Ferronox could take revenge for its people.

It locked its targeting matrix onto the Eliatropes, and teleported.  

*             *             *

_He wants to scream because he can’t find her, he can’t remember what he was supposed to do, he can’t do anything except wander alone and lost—_

Yugo!

_—and then he sees her, blue wakfu floating in the emptiness. He goes to her, reaches for her, but she is curled in a ball. Protecting something._

Yugo, listen to me _, she says, and he does, because maybe she knows what he’s supposed to do._ They’re going to help you, _she says_. They’re going to give you wakfu. Follow it back. Follow it home. You have to protect us.

What about you? _he asks. He doesn’t want to do this alone. He’s always had his friends by his side._ Come with me!

I can’t _, she says, and then he sees what she’s protecting: another wisp of wakfu, tiny and not yet fully formed. He remembers suddenly that she is a mother, that she too has someone to protect. She will not leave it behind._

_He feels it then, a rush of power that starts someplace far away but roars toward him like wildfire, like a tidal wave. He braces himself, remembering a dragon’s hand on his forehead, remembering the rush of power when he’d first touched the Eliacube, when he’d fought Qilby. When it hits him he’s nearly overwhelmed, but he fights it, fights to hold on to himself and follow it back to its source._

_As he’s leaving, he hears her say,_ I believe in you.

*             *             *

The portal device hissed and whined, the arc reactor at its heart sputtering and dying. The beam had hit Yugo squarely in the chest, and when his back arched and he screamed in pain Natasha had almost stopped it, almost dived in front of the beam herself to protect him, never mind that it would kill her. Jane had pressed her hand over her mouth, eyes wide with horror, and Ragnvaldr had gone pale, fingers hovering over the device’s kill switch. But Yugo hadn’t died, hadn’t disintegrated, had slumped back over but Natasha could still see him breathing steadily, and she took a step forward, intending to check him for signs of consciousness—  

An impact like a building collapsing rattled the ground beneath their feet, the hemisphere of sand wobbling precariously, and Natasha spun around. And froze in horror, because a Mechasm had appeared in the canyon not a hundred feet away.

She had time to shout a warning to Jane and Ragnvaldr, time to take a step forward, but even as she reached for her weapons, the Mechasm lifted its hand.

And fired a blast of purple light straight at them.


	44. In Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s too late. It’s too late to stop it.”  
> “No. We can. Together.”  
>  _-The Avengers_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early chapter this week, because this afternoon I'm getting on a plane to go visit Ankama, producers of our beloved _Wakfu!_ :D
> 
> Also, apologies for missing the last update! My SO had surgery so I was taking care of him. (He's fine; I was actually planning on doing a bunch of writing while he was sleeping off pain meds but the surgery went so well he didn't even need them.) Depending on how much writing I manage to get done on the plane, I'm going to try to get y'all a bonus chapter to get back on schedule.

The Mechasm lifted its hand and fired a blast of purple light straight at Natasha - and the helpless Eliatropes behind her. She drew her weapons even as she braced herself; she almost certainly wouldn’t survive the impact but maybe she could do _something_ —

—a flash of blue-white light and the ball of energy vanished.

Natasha blinked.

The Mechasm’s eyes widened.

Natasha spun around in time to see Yugo lower his arms. His eyes were open wide, glowing white with the power of the Tesseract he’d absorbed. Blue-white lines spiraled along his arms, around his chest and up his neck onto his face. He stood up, slow and deliberate, expression twisting into a snarl. “LEAVE THEM _ALONE!_ ” he roared - and then vanished into a blue-white streak that arrowed through the canyon directly toward the Mechasm.

The Mechasm snapped off another shot even as Yugo approached, but he dodged it easily, more blue-white energy flaring from his hands to slam into the Mechasm's shoulder. Metal groaned and the creature staggered. Yugo fired again, and again, his blasts leaving charred black streaks along the Mechasm's body, and for a moment Natasha felt relief. Yugo might only be one Eliatrope, but he was a powerful one. He could defend them long enough for the dragons to get here.

Then the Mechasm howled in fury and turned away from Yugo to fire both palm blasters directly at the still-unconscious Eliatropes.

*             *             *

Evangelyne's arm ached from firing her bow, her legs ached from running, her eyes ached from straining to see. She'd retreated to the trees, hidden deep in the foliage. The other Cra, Clint Barton, crouched nearby; they were taking turns harrying the Mechasms, trying to distract them whenever they were about to go for a killing blow. Eva's Cra eyes picked out Loki's brother Thor high overhead, up in the sky where the Mechasms couldn't reach him, using his hammer to throw lightning down at the Mechasms and shouting a rallying cry to his companions. On the ground, Tristepin and Rubilax worked with the Avengers' ogre to trip one of the Mechasms, but even as she watched, the Mechasm kicked the ogre in the stomach and sent him flying out over the water to disappear into the waves.

A scream caught Eva's ear and she spun to see Amalia crouched under a half-formed vine dome while a Mechasm pummeled it with energy blasts. Eva lifted her bow to try to distract it, but Captain Rogers got there first, his silver shield spinning between Amalia and the blasts and sending them ricocheting back at the Mechasm who'd fired them. Another Mechasm took advantage of his distraction, firing a blast of its own that hit him squarely in the back. He tumbled limply across the sand, out of Eva's line of sight.

Tikalukatal roared, lunging at the Mechasm who'd struck Rogers and clamping his teeth on its arm. Adamaï joined him, grabbing its other arm and pulling in the opposite direction, and for a second it looked like they would pull it apart—

—then Adamaï's head jerked up, the Mechasm's arm falling from his mouth and his eyes unfocusing, and in her mind Eva heard him shout, “Yugo!”

The Mechasm slammed its elbow into the side of Adamaï's head and the dragon reeled. Another Mechasm went after his wings and Tikalukatal spat fire at it, the whole island shaking with the force. Amalia cried out again and Eva snapped off a pair of shots at the Mechasm shooting at her, then had to dive away herself when the last Mechasm backtracked the path of her arrows and fired at Eva. She hit the ground hard and tried to roll, but the island was still shaking and she staggered and went sprawling. Struggling back to her feet, she picked up her bow just in time to see Tikalukatal go down, buried under a pair of Mechasms who were trying to tear him limb from limb. She raised her bow to fire and saw lighting pour down from overhead but it wasn't enough. Tikal was trapped.

*             *             *

Tony's head screamed with the effort of holding back the flow of time, _tick-tocks_ pounding against his skull in time to his heartbeat, trying to break free. It felt like drowning, like the last few moments before your body forced you to breathe even though you knew it would kill you, and _that_ wasn't a memory Tony needed, hands on the back of his neck forcing his head into a barrel of water—

He gritted his teeth, willed himself to focus. Everything depended on him, on his ability to not draw that last deadly breath, to keep time frozen long enough for Loki's silver tongue to work its magic on Orgonax. He had no idea how much not-time had passed since Loki had left, whether it even counted as time passing, and before he could think too much about that he started calculating differentials because _don't think about it._

But the pain in his ankle screamed at him, and the lesser cries of the dozens of smaller cuts slicing along his skin, and he lost track of the equations, drowning in pain and pressure and _tick-tocks_ thudding against his brain, his will. He dug his nails into his palms, trying to focus on that instead, on anything except taking that last breath. He didn’t know how much longer he could do it, didn’t know how much longer he could hold on.

_Loki_ , _hurry!_

*             *             *

The Mechasm turned away from Yugo and fired at the Eliatropes. The movement must have caught Yugo by surprise because he reacted too late, hands coming up to generate portals but the blasts were already too close, and Natasha dove across the sand, slamming into two kids and knocking them away half an instant before the blast hit. Heat flashed over her, sand exploding everywhere, but when she pushed herself up to her elbows the kids she’d shoved aside were unhurt. Across the sand hemisphere she saw Jane Foster lift her head; she, too, had dragged some of the children to safety.

Yugo howled in fury, light blasting from his palms to drive the Mechasm back against the canyon wall. The ground rumbled as it staggered, heavy desert stone breaking loose and plummeting to the canyon floor. The Mechasm roared back, its attention on Yugo again as it let loose with a barrage of energy. Yugo responded with a dozen or more portals that swallowed up the blasts, then reopened behind the Mechasm to spit them back out, pummeling it with its own weapons. It stumbled, hampered by the narrow canyon walls, unable to dodge. Heavy red boulders the size of SUVs splintered free where the Mechasm hit the walls, and Yugo caught those as well and dropped them on the Mechasm.

Somehow, despite the pummeling, the Mechasm managed to lash out, its massive hand catching Yugo before he could dodge and sending him flying across the canyon. He hit the ground and bounced through a patch of direct sunlight, and even from this distance Natasha could see his skin smoke and redden where the sun hit it. He opened a portal underneath himself to get away, dropping ungracefully into the shadows at the base of the canyon wall. The Mechasm used the moment of distraction to turn back to the sand hemisphere and the other Eliatropes, its hands coming up to fire again—

—a beam of light blasted past Natasha to slam into its chest, and she turned to see Jane and Ragnvaldr flanking the portal device. The machine was sparking and smoking, molten metal running down its sides to hiss into the sand at its base. Natasha had no idea how they’d managed to get another shot out of it but somehow they had, and it’d clearly done a number on the Mechasm. Electric arcs snapped and buzzed along its joints, the light lines along its limbs pulsed erratically, and when it tried to take a step toward them its leg jerked oddly, sending it staggering into the canyon wall.

Across the canyon Yugo stood up, his eyes flaring with blue-white light. More light gathered at his feet, the force of it buffeting the loose drapes of his shirt, his hat, blowing his hair back and sending dust and small pebbles flying away from him. For a hysterical moment Natasha remembered the Japanese cartoons Steve had showed her once, which he’d sworn Sam had recommended as cultural icons, but this was real and even from two hundred feet away Natasha could feel static on her skin from the gathering power. Yugo was screaming wordlessly, light pouring off him, and he raised his arms to fire another blast.

The Mechasm turned to look at him, its purple eyes shuttering, and even on its alien features Natasha could read its despair, its resignation. It expected to die.

She heard it say softly, “Forgive me, Orgonax.”

Then Yugo fired.

*             *             *

Movement at the corner of Tony’s eye, and he turned to see a Mechasm walk into the control room. Orgonax looked exactly as it had when Tony had first seen it lying unconscious in the hospice room, except that the blood-red light that had filled the hole where its heart should have been now ran along its arms, across its torso, lit up its eyes from within. It held one massive, three-fingered hand curled to its chest, and Tony could just make out the green and black of Loki’s jacket in its palm.

“Time mage,” Orgonax said, its voice rusty. Its eyes flicked down to Loki, then back to Tony. “The Eliatrope consort told me what has happened.”

Tony’s mouth was dry; it took him a couple of tries to get his voice to work. “Please tell me you’re helping us.”

“Yes,” Orgonax said, and Tony all but collapsed with relief.

Orgonax was moving toward the control panel as it spoke, and now Tony felt a shift in time around him, in the way seconds were piling up behind his eyes, struggling to push free. “What are you doing?” he gasped.

“Bending time,” Orgonax answered. “The weapon must be disabled, and I cannot do that if its controls are stopped.”

“I—” Tony began, then cut himself off. _Don’t think about it_. Qilby’s crystal had mentioned that Mechasms could control the energies of time and space the way Eliatropes could control those of life and death. Orgonax knew what it was talking about. Hopefully. So he gritted his teeth and fidgeted and tried not to think about anything other than holding back time, while Orgonax tapped at the control panel.

It felt like an eternity before Orgonax turned back to him. “It is done,” the Mechasm said. “The Eliatropes will awaken momentarily. I have done my part. Now do yours. Return to me my heart.”

Tony nodded shakily. “Get us down to the planet.”

Orgonax reached for him, its hand moving with exaggerated care to scoop him out of the air and lift him to where it held Loki in place. Loki was frozen in time, arms still reaching toward the hole in Orgonax’s chest, fingers spread as though he’d only just released the Elia-reactor. Tony swallowed hard, relief a tangible, painful lump in his chest. They’d done it. Seconds hammered against his skull but it didn’t matter any more, because they’d done it and he could let go.

Somewhere in the distance a clock chimed, deep and bone-thrumming, and the world around Tony blurred and vanished. Instead of Orgonax and Loki he saw a cloaked figure with enormous curved horns, a massive hammer dangling from one hand. The figure stood at the center of a stone disc broken into twelve slices, each marked with a symbol, and even as Tony watched the figure’s hammer swung to the side, _tick_ , and back the other way, _tock_ , the disc turning in sync with the rhythm. The figure’s head shifted; its eyes were invisible in the depths of its hood but Tony had the impression it was looking at him.

THE FATE WEAVER WAS RIGHT TO MARK YOU, it said, its voice echoing around Tony like the clock chime. YOU WOULD HAVE BEEN AN EXCELLENT DISCIPLE.

Power rushed out of Tony, spiraling up toward the figure along with the flow of time he’d been holding back. The vision faded, leaving him back in the Mechasm ship’s control room. He had time to see Loki come back to life, look up at Tony in surprise. Had time to realize he was falling, pitching toward him, the last of his strength pouring out of him along with the seconds he’d held back. Had time to feel the shockwave of the ship blowing up, the explosion no longer frozen in time.

Then Loki caught him, and even as the air turned to fire around them, Orgonax teleported them away.

*             *             *

The Mechasms pounded on Tikalukatal where he was trapped beneath their bulk. Adamaï jumped in to try to help, but another Mechasm leapt on him from behind, tearing at his wings to pull him away. Flying overhead, Thor tried to throw lightning into the melee but the last Mechasm fired at him, forcing him to dodge. Far out in the crashing ocean waves Evangelyne could see the green form of the aliens’ ogre, thrashing against the water and struggling to get back to shore. Eva drew a recall arrow onto her bowstring, but hesitated; she was tired enough that she was practically seeing double and didn’t think she’d have the strength to make another one, but too many people needed it and she didn’t want to waste it—

Suddenly Tikalukatal’s wings flared and he roared in fury. An impossibly loud _crack-boom_ answered him, the whole island lurching beneath Eva's feet, and she felt more than heard the rumble building up toward Oma's twin volcanic peaks. The Mechasms redoubled their efforts to pin him but Tikalukatal flipped over, throwing them off. He lifted his head and roared again, and the volcanoes answered him, bright columns of lava erupting into the sky. Molten fire rained down around them, sizzling where it hit the Mechasms’ metal skin, and Eva dove for cover in a thick stand of trees.

But the forest wouldn’t be safe for long; she could already hear the crackle of fire as the leaves and the underbrush caught, could see the rivers of lava pouring down the sides of the peaks. She made her decision before exhaustion made it for her, fired the recall arrow at the ogre and watched with relief when it hit him in the chest. He grabbed it, bellowing in rage, but that was enough to trigger its magic; light flashed and Eva rolled to the side as the arrow deposited the ogre a few feet away. It took him only a moment to get his bearings, then he charged off across the sand toward the Mechasms.

Eva sank down against a tree, panting, trying to catch her breath before the burning forest drove her back out onto the beach. She could see Amalia a little ways away, hidden behind a dense screen of foliage, likewise exhausted. Movement in the brush nearby and Captain Rogers appeared, alive if not uninjured. Smoke rose in faint, painful-looking wisps from the burn along his back where the Mechasm had hit him. His uniform was torn and bloody, his shield nearly black with char marks from the Mechasms’ weapons, his mask ripped away and his face marred with cuts and bruises.

“We need to regroup,” he said tensely. “This isn’t working.”

“I know,” Eva said, and hated how exhausted her voice sounded. “But what else can we do? We have to hold them until Loki… until someone…” She stopped, shaking her head. “I don’t even know what we’re hoping for any more.”

“Neither do I,” Rogers admitted. “But we have to trust that Loki and Tony will figure something out.”  

Eva nodded before hauling herself back to her feet. The problem, of course, was that they didn’t even know if Loki or Tony were alive, much less able to help. But she didn’t want to say it, and she could tell Rogers didn’t, either.

Because if someone didn’t come up with a way to stop the Mechasms, soon, everyone on Oma Island was going to die.  

*             *             *

Loki had half a second to regain his senses, time rushing back around him, before Tony Stark collapsed against him. He caught the man, lifted him into his arms, trying to shield him with his own body as the ship began to explode. Then Orgonax teleported them, space warping around them not unlike traveling via the Bifrost, and suddenly instead of fire and darkness they were enveloped by an intense dry heat and brilliant sunlight.

Loki was muttering a protective charm almost before he realized where they were: the southern desert continent, a sun-fried wasteland whose skin-roasting daytime heat kept away all but the heartiest settlers. They stood at the edge of one of many deep narrow canyons; leaning down, Loki squinted into its depths.

And saw the brilliant flare of light as Yugo gathered power to hurl at the ancient Mechasm who’d almost killed Tony.

Tony was looking too, and nearly fell out of Loki’s arms when he saw what was going on. “No!” he rasped, but his voice was weak, too faint to be heard by anyone but Loki. “No!”

Loki should have ignored it, should have let Yugo kill the Mechasm for what it had done to Thor, to Jahanna, to Tony - but Tony’s expression was desperate, his dark eyes wide and pleading as he struggled to get Yugo’s attention, and Loki shouted, “Yugo, _no!_ ”

But even as the words left his mouth he knew it was too late; Yugo was already firing, a beam of wakfu the size of a fire serpent blasting from his hands toward the Mechasm. Loki saw him hear, saw him look up at Loki in a panic, try to stop himself but the blast was already loose, it was too late—

—a flash of blue and the beam disappeared a hair’s breadth from the Mechasm’s head.

Loki froze, felt Tony freeze against him, no one moving for several long seconds. It was the Mechasm who finally broke the tableau, its head turning creakily to look toward the sand hemisphere where the circle of Eliatrope children sat.

And where Jahanna stood, eyes whited out with the Eliacube’s power, palms still glowing faintly blue from the portal she’d opened to save the Mechasm’s life.


	45. Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Arrêtez tous! C'est fini.”_   
> _“Adieu, Yugo l'Eliatrope.”_  
>  -Wakfu S1E26, “Le Mont Zinit”

Jahanna and the Mechasm stared at each other for a long moment, before Jahanna deliberately broke the gaze to look up at Loki. Relief nearly took Loki's legs from under him - she looked exhausted, but unharmed. She opened a portal beside him, and he carried Tony through to stand beside her on the hemisphere of sand at the bottom of the canyon.

The ancient Mechasm had looked up as well, and now it stared at Orgonax where it still stood on the surface of the desert above them. “Builder,” it said, its voice a pained creak. “I am glad you survived. We can destroy the Eliatropes—”

Orgonax's eyes flashed and shuttered. It said, “Ferronox, stop. I have made a truce with the mortal and the Eliatrope consort.”

Ferronox stared at it, then down at Loki and Tony, who waggled his fingers in a weak, exhausted wave. “I told you,” Tony said. “No one else has to die.”

“Regarding that,” Loki said, and turned to Jahanna. “You need to stop the spell. It's jumping to the other Mechasm ships—”

“Loki—” she protested, but he shook his head.

“Please,” he said. He bowed his head a little; she took the hint and reached up, across Tony, fingers resting lightly against Loki’s temples. He felt her mind brush his, felt her see his conversation with Orgonax. She gasped softly, one hand dropping to her chest where she'd absorbed the Eliacube, then let go.

“All right,” she said, a little shakily. “We'll—”

Yugo jumped from a portal to land beside them. “Loki, what's going on?” he demanded.

“We've a truce with Orgonax,” Loki said quickly. “We're stopping the spell.”

Yugo stared, but before he could say anything, Jahanna said, “Um. Maybe not. The far-caster…”

Loki looked at it over her shoulder, and winced. The device was so much slag, little more than a misshapen mound of metal in the center of the hemisphere.

“No,” Tony whispered. “No, dammit, there has to be something—Wait. Orgonax!” he called, and the Mechasm looked down at him. “Can you teleport them to the other ship, like you teleported us here? Close enough to stop the spell?”

The two Mechasms' eyes shuttered and flashed in sudden weird synchrony, then Orgonax said, “I cannot. This artificial heart cannot power a second such journey. But Ferronox can.”

“No,” Loki said immediately. Remembering the energy blasts he'd barely kept off Tony, remembering Ferronox firing again and again until Loki thought he wouldn't be able to stop it from killing him. “No, not with Ferronox—”

“Loki,” Jahanna said gently, and he looked down at her, dread in his throat. She quirked a smile at him, trying to be reassuring. “This is my legacy. I'm Qilby's scion. If I can keep the damage he's done - that I almost did - from getting worse, then I have to. And,” she added when he opened his mouth, “we don't have time to argue. I'm going.”

She portaled away, landing awkwardly on Ferronox's shoulder and gripping the decorative bolt for balance. “Yugo!” she called. “Come on, I'll need your help.”

Loki snarled as the boy joined her. “This is a bad idea,” he muttered under his breath. Tony elbowed him in the ribs.

Then Ferronox vanished, taking the Eliatropes with him, and Loki could only pray to the Fates that the ancient Mechasm wouldn't choose revenge over survival.

*             *             *

Natasha spent an entire five seconds debating with herself whether to speak up, to disturb the fragile silence that hung in the air after the Mechasm left with Jahanna and Yugo. But even five seconds felt like too long; she knew all too well how a life could end in only one. She crossed the sand hemisphere to where Loki stood, still holding Stark in his arms like a child. Stark himself looked exhausted, about to pass out; he was clearly staying conscious through sheer stubbornness. Loki just looked worried, and she couldn't really blame him - his pregnant wife had just gone with the enemy to somewhere millions of light-years away.

But there was another danger, much closer. “Loki,” she said, and he looked at her, blinking a little like he was surprised she was there. “Our guys are still fighting Mechasms back on Oma Island. We need to get them safe, too.”

“Are they? Shit,” Stark muttered. “Can’t everything just be fixed yet?”

Loki took a breath like he was glad to have something else to focus on. “Soon enough,” he said to Stark, then, “Orgonax!” he called, up to where the Mechasm still stood far above them. “There are other Mechasms on this world, fighting its people. The mortals are innocent in this matter, and only wish to defend themselves and their home. Will you call off your warriors?”

Orgonax stared at him for a long second, its orange eyes shuttering and flashing. Natasha wondered if it was trying to decide whether he was lying, trying to trick it somehow. Finally it said, “Yes.” The lights running along its body flickered, the pattern changing for a moment, though it didn't otherwise move. Several seconds passed, then abruptly the desert air shimmered, and four Mechasms, their metal skin scarred with char marks and scored with deep gouges, appeared behind Orgonax. They looked upon him with an awe that was clear despite their immobile faces, and one of them bowed its shoulders in obvious relief.

Natasha breathed out a sigh. It was no guarantee that the others still lived, but at least no one else would die.

*             *             *

Evangelyne ran after Barton through the trees, arm pumping to fire a hail of arrows at the Mechasm following them. Rogers had come up with a plan that would hopefully keep them alive for a while longer, directing Thor and the archers to cover the others’ retreat to the caves under the volcanoes. They weren’t sure whether the caves would still be safe, or even accessible behind the lava, but they needed someplace to fall back to, and the caves were the best bet.

Barton shouted something at Thor, who immediately changed direction from where he’d been diving at a Mechasm’s head to instead swoop around behind it. The Mechasm twisted, trying to follow the motion and leaving itself vulnerable to the exploding arrow Barton fired into its neck joint. The blast rocked the Mechasm, and Amalia paused in running long enough to call a vine behind its knees, tripping it. Adamaï flew up as it staggered, and shoved it backward into one of the thick rivers of lava flowing down the side of the mountain.

The Mechasm howled in pain as it landed, struggling to clamber free. A second Mechasm paused to help it, and an instant later Tikalukatal, in human form, flew out of the thick cloud of smoke that hung over the forest to buzz around the head of a third. Which meant that for a few precious seconds, only one Mechasm was focused on the fleeing humans. “Into the cave!” Rogers shouted, and caught a Mechasm blast on his shield. Amalia, Ruel, and Barton ran past him into the cave mouth; Eva started to follow then realized Tristepin wasn’t inside.

“Pinpin!” she called. “Come on!”

“But Eva,” he protested. “A Iop doesn’t retreat! Besides, we’ve got ‘em on the ropes!”

“I’m not asking you to retreat,” Rogers snapped. “We need you in here so we can—”

A Mechasm hand swung down, slamming into Rogers and flinging him aside. Before any of them could react, the Mechasm’s other hand grabbed Eva and lifted her into the air. She didn’t scream - she didn’t have time, and anyway the Mechasm was crushing her ribs, along with her shoulders and arms and hips and the rest of her body. Her bow was pinned against her leg and all she could think was that she didn’t want it to break; she’d already lost one bow and didn’t think she could handle it again. Somewhere distantly she could hear Tristepin roaring, could hear Amalia’s cry of fear and anger, but she couldn’t breathe and she couldn’t move, pinned in the Mechasm’s hand and she was going to die here, die while her daughter’s face floated behind her eyelids, her husband’s voice screamed her name—

Then the Mechasm flung her, and she gasped for breath even as she felt herself begin to fall, plummeting through the air, intense heat blasting her from below and she realized suddenly that the Mechasm had thrown her toward one of the lava flows. She twisted, trying to fling herself onto a safer trajectory, but she didn’t have enough strength.

A blur of red and silver caught her eye and she recognized Loki’s brother Thor half a second before he slammed into her, catching her in one arm while his other held his heavy warhammer out in front of him. They hit the ground just past the lava flow, tumbling through the underbrush, close enough to the lava that Eva’s exposed skin reddened with the heat. Thor had curled around her to take the worst of the impact, but Eva’s teeth still rattled and she ached all over when they finally slid to a stop against a tree.

For a second Eva just lay there, sprawled half on top of Thor, trying to remember how to move. Thor didn’t seem much better off; he groaned softly and shook his head, but didn’t try to get up. They were past the lava flow, well away from the Mechasm who’d thrown her, and Eva thought maybe they could just rest for a second, get their breath back. But the trees overhead rattled and parted, and two Mechasms loomed overhead. One of them had black scorch marks running along its back, shoulders, and arms - the one they’d knocked into the same lava flow, back for revenge. It lifted its hands, the purple lights at the center of its palms humming to life, and Eva felt Thor struggle to move under her, tried to push herself up, but she was exhausted and hurting and she wasn’t going to make it in time and neither was Thor, and she closed her eyes, holding an image of Pinpin and Cabotine in her mind.

But the blast of heat and pain never came. After a few seconds she dared open one eye, in time to see the Mechasms look at each other. The lines along their bodies flashed and hummed in sync, a strange new pattern. Then they vanished, winking out of existence as suddenly as they’d appeared, leaving broken trees swaying in the dying wind.

Eva stared at the empty spot where they’d stood, not quite sure what had just happened, fully expecting them to reappear and finish killing her and Thor. But the seconds dragged on, and the Mechasms didn’t return, and finally she heard Tristepin’s voice, panicky and desperate, calling her name.

She exchanged a look with Thor and they managed to climb to their feet just as Tikalukatal, in full dragon form, stepped over the lava flow. Their friends stood on his head and snout, and when Tristepin caught sight of Eva he leaped to the ground. He’d shrunk back down to normal size by the time he’d landed, Rubilax returning to his sword form in his belt. Eva held out her arms and Tristepin caught her in a fierce embrace. She hugged him back, the fear and the exhaustion finally kicking in so that she sagged against him.

Behind her, she could hear Captain Rogers saying, “Did yours just vanish, too?”

“Yes,” Thor said. “They had us. They could have killed us. I do not know why they did not.”

“Yeah,” Rogers muttered.

“Tikalukatal suspects something happened with Loki and the Eliatropes,” Tikal said, his voice echoing in their minds, even more gravelly than usual from exhaustion and worry. “His sister has awakened, but he can sense little more than that she does not feel threatened.”

“Do you think they did it?” Eva asked. “Loki and Stark? They defeated the Mechasms?”

“I don’t know,” Rogers admitted. “I hope so.”

“I suspect,” Thor said grimly, “that we will find out soon enough.”

*             *             *

The air shimmered in the center of the canyon and Ferronox reappeared, its huge shoulders sagging and the lines of light along its body dimmed to almost nothing. But Jahanna and Yugo still stood on its shoulders, and Loki felt like he could breathe again for the first time since they’d left.

Yugo opened a portal for the two of them to join Loki, Tony, and the others on the sand hemisphere. The human women and Ragnvaldr had been seeing to the Eliatrope children, who’d returned to consciousness shaken and terrified. Tony sat on the ground, slumped against Loki’s leg; Loki half-feared he’d passed out with his eyes open. Jahanna looked equally tired and worn, walking with awkward care and grabbing Loki’s arm for balance as soon as she was close enough. Loki pulled her into his arms, letting himself take a moment to bask in her heat, in the solidity of her body against his.

Yugo followed her through the portal and flopped tiredly onto the sand. “We did it,” he said to Loki. “We stopped the spell.”

“Good work,” Loki told him, and meant it. He looked up over Yugo’s head to where Orgonax still stood at the top of the canyon. “Your people are safe, as are the Eliatropes,” he said to it. “Now we return to you your heart, and your people and mine go our separate ways. Yes?”

“Yes,” Orgonax rumbled. It climbed carefully down into the canyon, heat-steam rising from the metal of its chest as it left the direct sunlight, and stood before Loki and Jahanna.

Jahanna pulled away from Loki, managing to stand upright with only his hand on her elbow for assistance. The wakfu lines along her arms, her legs, her face pulsed gently, then with a flash of light her Eliacube materialized in front of her chest. She held her hands to either side of it, frowning in concentration. It clicked and hummed, spinning restlessly between her palms, its sides flexing in and out as if it breathed. Deep in its core Loki could see a faint swirl of purple light that grew even as he watched. Jahanna gestured, and the light - Orgonax’s heart - broke free of the Eliacube to hover above it. It was still growing, drawing in more purple energy, until it solidified into a silver-grey sphere shot through with lines of purple light.

Jahanna gestured again, and the heart floated up toward Orgonax. The bloody orange lights on the Mechasm’s body slowed in their pulsing, and Loki could hear something deep inside its chest whir and click. The orange lights faded, and the Elia-reactor appeared from within the depths of Orgonax’s chest. Its own light was nearly dead, little more than a faint bluish glow as Jahanna sent it flying down to the sand beside Tony.

Ferronox moved up behind Orgonax, its hands half-raised, its eyes fixed on Jahanna as if it expected her to pull a last-instant double-cross. Loki watched it nervously, painfully aware of the irony of the situation, of how frustrating and terrifying it must be for Ferronox to stand by while the scion of the man who stole Orgonax’s heart in the first place now returned it. But though Ferronox’s eyes flashed and shuttered, it didn’t move as Jahanna sent the heart floating into the gaping hole in Orgonax’s chest.

Purple light flared, bright enough to blind them all. When Loki could see again, Orgonax’s eyes were once again alight with energy - purple this time, the same purple that now pulsed along the lines of its body. Orgonax raised its hands slowly, flexing its fingers; after a moment it shuddered, then straightened. “You have fulfilled your promise, Eliatrope consort,” it said, its voice strong and solid.

Loki inclined his head in a respectful bow, and Orgonax looked to Jahanna. “Scion of Qilby the Traitor,” it rumbled. “You have returned what he stole from me. Our peoples have both suffered greatly for his actions.”

“Yes,” Jahanna said softly. “An apology is but words, against such crimes, yet all I have left to offer is an apology for what he did, and the promise that we Eliatropes have learned from the mistakes that turned Qilby into a monster.”

Yugo stepped up beside Jahanna, his shoulders squared and chin lifted. He was still too young to truly look a king, but Loki could see where it would come, in time. “I am Yugo, King of the Eliatropes,” he said, his voice steady. “On behalf of my people, I offer peace. I know our peoples once lived in harmony and friendship, and while we may never be able to go back to that, we can at least stop hurting each other.”

“I remember you, King of the Eliatropes,” Orgonax said. “On behalf of my own people, I accept your offer. We will leave you to your lives on this world, and live our own lives elsewhere.”

Yugo nodded. “Thank you,” he said, and bowed as Loki had taught him, respectful but without giving up any of his own authority.

Orgonax’s eyes whirred and shuttered, and its head tilted unnaturally to the side in what was probably the Mechasms’ equivalent of a bow. “Then we will take our leave,” it said. “Goodbye, King Yugo.”

“Goodbye, Orgonax,” Yugo replied.

Orgonax’s eyes flashed, the lights on its body pulsing in synchrony with those of the four Mechasms standing above them on the canyon’s surface, and they all vanished.

All except Ferronox, whose purple eyes fixed on Tony Stark. “Builder,” it said, its voice creaking.

Tony startled, making a visible effort to pull himself together and sit up a little straighter. He blinked rapidly a few times, then looked up at the Mechasm. “Yeah,” he said.

“I apologize for attacking you,” Ferronox said quietly. “You were right. No one else needed to die.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tony said lightly. “You were trying to protect your people. I get it.” Ferronox watched him for a moment, purple eyes shuttering as if it wanted to say more, but Tony waved a hand dismissively. “Seriously, man. It’s cool. Just… take care of Orgonax, okay?”

“Thank you,” Ferronox said. Tony flashed a smile at it, then the lights on its chest pulsed and it, too, was gone.


	46. New Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He is my brother.”  
>  _-The Avengers_

All Loki wanted to do was sleep.

The Eliatropes had managed to open two final portals, one from the desert back to Oma Island, and the other from Oma to the Sadida Kingdom. The children had stayed behind on the island, with Ruel, Tristepin, and Amalia to watch them; the Sadida weren’t prepared for an influx of well over a hundred Eliatrope children and neither Loki nor Yugo wanted to risk the Eliatropes’ fragile reputation by bringing the children unannounced. Everyone else had returned to the Sadida palace, where they’d gone variously to the healers’ wing to have their injuries tended or to their own quarters for rest. Loki had been surprised when Evangelyne returned with them; he’d expected her to stay on the island with Tristepin. But she’d studied Jahanna with a critical eye, and followed them back to the palace instead, and Loki decided to trust her judgment.

Stark had passed out shortly after Ferronox left, and Loki could tell that Thor, though putting on a brave face and even speaking a little with the mortals, was staying upright only thanks to long centuries of combat training. He was grateful when Tikalukatal shifted to his man's form and took charge of Jahanna, because Loki could only wrangle so many people at once. When they were safely in the Sadida palace, Loki had left Stark in Timov’s care, with the threat of severe violence should Stark not make a full recovery. He’d also arranged to have an extra sleeping pallet delivered to his and Jahanna’s rooms, and after ensuring Stark was being cared for, had half-led, half-carried Thor there.

Jahanna had been there already, sprawled asleep on their bed with Tikal curled against her side in his favorite ermine form. Loki wrestled Thor’s boots and cape off him, then deposited him on the cot. Thor blinked sleepily at him. “Loki,” he started.

“Be quiet,” Loki told him. “Before you say anything either of us will regret.”

Thor grinned, and even tired as he was, that smile was a flash of sunlight. Loki had feared, when the Avengers first arrived on the World of Twelve, that he’d never get to see his brother’s smile again. “At least let me thank you for what you did,” Thor said.

“As if I’d let the Mechasms threaten my people,” Loki scoffed.

“Your people,” Thor repeated. He was still smiling, but there was sorrow in his blue eyes. “Of course you wouldn’t.”

Loki winced; he’d forgotten, for a moment, all that had passed between them. Had forgotten that Thor had every reason to expect Loki would leave him to die, that Loki no longer cared about the family that had raised him. That Thor might have reasonably feared Loki would abandon him as Thor had abandoned Loki - even if Loki could now admit, if only to himself, that Thor had not done so knowingly. He sat down on the bed next to Thor, meeting his brother’s eyes. “I protect my own,” he said, and willed Thor to hear what he could not quite bring himself to say. Not yet.

Thor stared at him, and it hurt to see how slowly the hope, the joy crept into his eyes. He smiled again, the smaller smile that was mostly in his eyes, and reached up to grasp Loki’s neck. “Thank you, brother,” he said softly.

Loki smiled back, though he had to swallow around a sudden lump in his throat. He let himself lean into Thor’s grip for just a moment, then pulled away and gave Thor a shove backward. “Rest,” he ordered. “You’re sentimental when you’re tired.”

“You rest, too,” Thor said, though he let himself fall onto the pillows. Loki waved him off, but in truth he really did plan to sleep. Preferably for a week.

He kicked off his own boots, dropped his jacket onto a chair, and collapsed into bed next to Jahanna. She murmured something, turning slightly toward him, but didn’t wake. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. He could feel the skin of her stomach ripple and flex as their unborn child shifted in her womb, and another of the many tensions he’d held since he’d gone to rescue Stark eased. He was asleep almost before he closed his eyes.

It felt like only minutes later that movement jostled him awake, and he squinted sleepily up at Jahanna. He’d apparently slept long enough for the sun to set, at least, but he could still see her in the moonlight that filtered through the curtains. She’d raised herself up on her elbows, eyes wide, expression frightened; Tikal was sitting bolt upright on her other side. Loki was fully awake in an instant, sitting up, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “My love,” he whispered. “What is it?”

She looked up at him, then gasped and winced in sudden pain. “Eva said I’d know when it was time,” she said, her voice high and a little panicked. One hand moved to her stomach, and she flinched again, biting back a cry. “It’s time.”

*             *             *

Loki barely remembered carrying Jahanna from their rooms to the small but cozy midwifery in the healers’ wing. Sadida children were sprouted, not born, but the kingdom hosted enough non-Sadida residents and guests that King Sheran Sharm had long ago decided it was prudent to keep a dedicated birthing hall. And the Eniripsas who staffed the wing had known Jahanna was due at any time, so the room was well-prepared. Loki laid Jahanna on the narrow plush bed in the middle of the room. She hadn’t said anything else, focused as she was on breathing around her labor, but she was clutching his arm hard enough to hurt. He had to pry her hand free in order to stand up after settling her, but immediately took it in his own. Tikal, still in ermine form, spun in restless, frantic circles beneath his sister’s arm.

The Eniripsa midwife and her three assistants bustled around the room, preparing things. Twice they gently but firmly moved Loki out of the way, and the third time the midwife simply pulled him away from the bed. “She’ll be fine,” the midwife said. “But you have to give us room to work.”

“You should - ow - you should go wait outside,” Jahanna said, fixing first Loki, then Tikal, with a pointed look. Her voice was pained, but firm. “Both of you.”

“Jahanna—” Loki began.

He’d forgotten he was married to an Eliatrope. “ _OUT!_ ” she roared, and abruptly Loki was standing on the wide patio outside the midwifery, a very startled Tikal perched on his shoulder. Loki turned around in time to see the midwife’s assistant shut the door.

“Oh,” he said.

Tikal made an unhappy little noise of agreement.

*             *             *

It was perhaps half an hour later, though it already felt like an eternity of waiting and pacing, when Thor arrived on the patio. He’d shed his armor, so that he wore only a lighter tunic and pants. He carried a large basket under one arm, and without saying anything, took Loki by the shoulder and shoved him none too gently onto a cushioned bench under the patio railing. He set the basket down beside Loki and opened it, revealing an assortment of warm bread, juicy meat, and crisp greens, as well as a tall flask of Pandawa bamboo milk.

Loki looked from the food, up to his brother. “You’re supposed to be resting,” he said.

“My brother’s child is being born,” Thor said with a grin. “‘Tis hardly something I could sleep through.”

Loki scowled. Thor sat down on the bench beside him, pulling the basket into his lap. He dug around in it for a moment, then pressed a steaming roll into Loki’s hands. “Eat,” he ordered.

Loki glared at him. The bread smelled delicious, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten, but still his stomach churned with nerves, and he doubted he’d be able to keep anything down. The door to the midwifery wasn’t entirely soundproof, and he could occasionally hear Jahanna cry out. Tikal, curled around Loki’s neck, flinched every so often as well; Loki knew he could sense his sister’s pain. Although that apparently wasn’t enough to stop him from reaching out with tiny ermine paws to snatch the roll from Loki’s hand and begin nibbling. _Dragons_ , Loki thought with a sigh.

Footsteps clicked on the wood floor, and Loki looked up in time to see Evangelyne rush up the hall. She paused long enough to give Loki a reassuring smile, then ducked through the door into the midwifery. Loki almost tried to dive through it after her, but Thor gripped his shoulder again.

“These are women’s rites,” Thor said quietly. “There’s aught you can do in there but be underfoot.”

“This is _stupid_ ,” Loki complained. Raised princes of Asgard, he and Thor had both learned the basics of childbirth, but Loki hadn’t investigated beyond those lessons. In his youth, he had indeed believed it women’s business; and when he was grown he hadn’t really expected, as the second son, the unloved _seiðmaðr_ , to ever need the knowledge. Now, though, he wished desperately that he had studied more, that he could have found a way to be helpful in the birthing room instead of just _sitting_ here.

Frustrated, he shook off Thor’s hand and shoved to his feet. Annoyed by the sudden movement, Tikal leapt back down to the bench, still clutching the roll in his mouth. Loki ignored him, starting once more to pace the width of the patio. He could feel Thor’s eyes on him, knew he was going to say something, so Loki cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand. “Chibi and Grougal were almost two years old when we adopted them, and in any case they hatched. This is…” He took a breath, licked his lips. “This is different.”

He kept remembering the image from Emrub’s time portal, years ago during the Infinity War, a tiny blue infant with red eyes and scarred skin. His imagination offered up worse images, conjured from the acute awareness that Jahanna was an Eliatrope and Loki was…

Was a freak.

Neither quite Aesir nor truly Jotun, a shapeshifting runt with outsized magic powers, and Evangelyne and Tristepin and Alibert and a dozen others had tried to reassure him that it would be fine, it didn’t matter. But underneath the surface blessings wrought by the gods they worshipped, the people of the World of Twelve were all still human, all still the same race at their core. Loki and Jahanna were very much not, even if Loki hadn’t also been a freak. He’d never dared bring up the subject with her; she had been nervous enough about being pregnant in the first place that he couldn’t in good conscience add to her fear. He’d mostly managed to shove the terror down into a tiny corner of his mind, down where his soul still hadn’t quite stitched together, the place he’d long since learned to ignore. And ignore it he had, for most of a year. But now… Now the child was coming, and with it, the terror.

He shuddered, spun on his heel and increased his pace. Thor was watching him, blue eyes remarkably, frustratingly calm. Loki wanted to scream at him for being so calm, so unaffected, yet at the same time he was glad Thor was there. Despite everything that had passed between them in the last four years, Thor was still his brother. And that was still a tangled thing, fraught with Loki’s memories of the void, of seething quietly while Thor and his friends laughed at him, of _know your place_. But their brief visits on Asgard over the last few years, the time Loki had had away from Asgard to heal, had been enough for other memories to return as well. Other times when Thor had sat so, calm and unshakeable, a red and silver rock against which Loki could lean for support.

“Jahanna will be fine,” Thor said, as if reading Loki’s thoughts. “So will your child, and so will you.”

Loki met his eyes, afraid even now to speak his fears, wondering if any of them had even occurred to Thor. His silver tongue was tangled, unable to shape even the simplest of words, and Thor seemed to realize this because he reached into the basket once again, this time retrieving the flask of bamboo milk. “If you won’t eat,” he said, “at least drink. The servant told me this is as good as any dwarven ale.” He paused and sniffed it, his nose wrinkling. “I have my doubts, but the man said you drink it, so…”

“Aye,” Loki managed. He let Thor motion him back over to the bench, sat down beside him and accepted the flask. Tikal leaped up onto Loki’s shoulders once more, and the three of them sat there, Loki and Thor trading the flask back and forth, and waited for the birth to finish.

*             *             *

Despite himself, Thor nodded off a few times, but the fact that even Loki dozed a little made him feel less guilty. They were both exhausted - _all_ , he amended; they were _all_ exhausted. Tikal, having finished stealing food from the basket, had curled up in a ball on Loki’s lap. Thor wasn’t sure if he was actually asleep, for his tiny ermine ears twitched at every new sound, but neither did he otherwise move. And Thor couldn’t imagine how exhausted Jahanna must be; he had been there on the island when Loki and Tony and the others had returned, and Loki had explained what had happened in the desert.

The sun had risen some few hours ago, and Thor tried to keep himself occupied watching the bustle of the great tree’s inhabitants, visible over the side of the patio. He’d figured this was the Sadida Kingdom Loki had spoken of, and he finally understood what Chibi had meant last year when he’d said Thor wasn’t green enough to be a prince. He wanted to ask Loki so many questions about his life here: what he did, who his friends were. But Loki was too wound up to speak - Thor could practically feel the nervous energy radiating from him, not unlike Thor’s own lightning. So he held his tongue, and instead simply made sure that Loki ate and drank something, and that he did not try to fight his way into the midwifery.

He was dozing now, slumped against Thor’s shoulder, but Thor had been watching a high drama unfolding between what he guessed were lesser nobles on a balcony perhaps a hundred feet away. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but it was entertaining enough to imagine the words being thrown back and forth. Normally, spying on others was Loki’s trick, but Thor had noticed that Jahanna’s cries from the midwifery had faded, and he didn’t want to fall asleep again.

Then the door to the birthing room opened. Thor elbowed Loki awake; Loki jumped and blinked, looking around wildly. His gaze settled on the midwife standing in the doorway, a smile on her plump face, and he froze.

“Come in,” the midwife said.

Loki was on his feet so fast that he nearly dumped Tikal on the ground; the dragon leaped away at the last instant and, with a puff of black smoke, transformed into his man’s shape. Thor followed them into the midwifery, where Jahanna lay on the bed propped against a mound of pillows, a tiny swaddled bundle in her arms. Thor couldn’t help but smile when he saw that the infant already wore a miniature fox-eared Eliatrope hat - apparently Eliatropes started their children on them early.

Loki went straight to her, sitting beside her on the bed, eyes searching her face worriedly. Jahanna had bruised circles under her eyes and her dark hair was limp with sweat, but she smiled at him as she carefully placed their child in his arms. Thor couldn’t see well from where he stood near the door, but he got a glimpse of a peaceful sleeping face, still red and scrunched from birth but otherwise perfect, beneath the hat.

“Say hello to your son,” Jahanna said.

The emotions that crossed Loki’s face at those words hurt to watch - hope and fear and joy and relief all tangled together. Loki stared down at the child in silence for a long minute, throat working as he swallowed; then he looked up at Jahanna, at Tikal where he hovered over them, and finally over to Thor, who was still standing near the door. “He’s—” Loki started, then stopped, choking on whatever he’d been about to say. Thor saw tears in his eyes before he bowed his head over the child, trembling.

Jahanna studied him for a moment, one corner of her mouth quirking up into a fond smile. She caught Thor’s eye and tilted her head toward Loki, her meaning clear: _take care of him?_

Thor nodded, approaching the bed as Jahanna took the babe back. He caught Loki by the shoulders and tugged him upright; it worried him a little when Loki didn’t protest. He steered him back out onto the patio. After a moment Loki shook free of his hands and went to lean on the railing. Thor joined him, noticing as he did that Loki’s knuckles had gone white from the force of his grip on the rail, that his shoulders were shaking. “He’s…” Loki gasped again, and this time it was very clearly a sob of relief that stopped his words.

Thor bumped Loki’s shoulder gently with his own. “You worry too much, brother.”

Loki let out a little choking laugh. “Do I?” he said. “ _Shouldn’t_ I have? I thought…” He licked his lips and swallowed hard. “He’s an Eliatrope,” he said quietly. “He’s a perfect Eliatrope.”

Thor almost asked him what he meant, what he’d expected - but then he remembered how afraid Loki had looked earlier, when he’d talked about this being different from Chibi and Grougal. Remembered that for all he looked Aesir, Loki was Jotun, and had - and apparently still - believed himself a monster. He had probably feared, this whole time, that the child would be a misshapen, malformed freak, and Thor mentally kicked himself for not thinking of it sooner. This wasn’t just relief that mother and child had both got through the birth unscathed, after days of tension and fighting a war; it was relief that the child wasn’t a monster as Loki thought he himself was.

There wasn’t much Thor could say to that, not now, when the tentative bridge they’d built between them was still so fragile. Loki needed to understand that he wasn’t a monster, but Thor was all too aware that he himself had, however inadvertently, played a major part in instilling that belief. It would take a much longer time than they’d had so far for him to be able to repair the damage he’d done. So all he did was rest a hand on Loki’s shoulder, and pretended not to notice the tears on Loki’s cheeks, nor the way Loki leaned against him.

Finally Loki stopped shaking. He dragged an arm across his face, straightened his shoulders, pulled away from Thor’s hand. Thor waited for him to fully compose himself before standing up from where he’d been leaning on the railing, and when he looked at his brother’s face, there was no sign of Loki’s breakdown save a little redness around his green eyes. “Come,” Loki said. “You should meet him, too. He’s your heir, after all.” He grinned, the bright mischievous grin that Thor knew all too well from their childhood, and Thor couldn’t help but grin back.

“My heir and my nephew,” he agreed, and clapped Loki on the shoulder. “Congratulations, little brother.”

Loki’s smile softened, became the small one he had always reserved for Thor. “Thank you,” he said, and though there was a hint of teasing to it, what should have been the normal lightheartedness of a new father, Thor also heard something else. Something that maybe Loki couldn’t say out loud just yet, but Thor knew his brother, knew what was behind that mischievous smile and laughing tone.

And maybe things weren’t entirely better, not yet, not when there were still so many things neither of them dared say. But they were _here_ , together, and Loki wasn’t pushing Thor away and Thor wasn’t ignoring his pain. It would be longer still before they truly felt like a family again - and perhaps that would never happen, not as they’d once been; what Odin had done to Loki was unforgivable and would forever be a knife slicing them apart. Yet Thor again felt what he had half a year ago, watching Loki depart with his own family from Asgard’s palace after their dinner: _hope_. Hope that they could rebuild the bonds between them, not as they had once been, but stronger, with the hard-won knowledge of the last four years, taking the pain and the anger and the loss and shaping it into something new, something so much brighter.

Thor draped an arm around Loki’s shoulders, and together they returned to the birthing room to welcome Loki’s son into the world.


	47. Going Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Everything will never be okay. But I think I can figure this out.”  
> - _Iron Man 3_

“No, seriously,” Tony said. “I don’t get it. You say your kid is all Eliatrope, but procreation combines DNA from both parents - Bruce, back me up here, you’re a bioengineer - so shouldn’t he be half you?”

Loki flashed him that obnoxious grin. They were walking the path through the woods to the Bifrost portal at the outskirts of the Sadida Kingdom. It was time for everyone to go home, the Avengers and Jane Foster back to Earth, and Thor and Ragnvaldr back to Asgard. Loki’s family was going to Asgard, too; Thor had said something about them presenting their child to the throne in some kind of complicated royal ritual. Tony mostly just hoped that meant the king and queen were well enough to participate, remembering how Frigga had looked when they’d visited her in the healers’ ward almost two weeks ago. He hadn’t said anything, though, because he wasn’t sure how much Loki had told Thor about their injuries and didn’t want to bring up anything painful.

Besides, this was supposed to be a happy good-bye. Loki’s friends had returned from Oma Island to see them off, handing over the babysitting to a pair of airheaded Sadida whom Tony wouldn’t have trusted with a Cabbage Patch doll, much less a hundred Eliatrope children, but everyone else seemed to think they could handle it. The entire Brotherhood was walking with them now, and Tony could see Evangelyne talking to Agent Barton about Cra arrow magic. Yugo, Jane, and Jahanna were discussing Eliatrope portals and wormholes, while Tristepin was regaling Agent Romanoff and a rapt Ragnvaldr with the tale of his battle against Rushu at the Crimson Claw Archipelago, and Amalia and Ruel were correcting his more ridiculous embellishments. Tikal, in his human form, carried Loki’s other kid Chibi on his shoulders, and Adamaï kept an eye on a little black dragon that Tony guessed was Chibi’s brother.

A week had passed since the battle with the Mechasms, a week which Tony had spent mostly stuck in the healers’ ward, much to his frustration. Here he was on another freaking world, and plump ladies with fairy wings wouldn’t let him go look around because “the healing needs time to work, dear, and if you do try to get up, we can bewitch you right back to sleep”. Bruce had tried to help by doing exploring of his own and reporting back, but that had only made Tony want more badly to go see things in person. At least Steve had also been stuck in the ward while the burn on his back healed, and Natasha came to visit them and tell them stories about what Barton was up to. He’d apparently been adopted by the Cra battalion stationed in the palace, and had spent the week doing archer stuff with them.

Thor and Loki also visited, whenever Loki had time away from his wife and newborn kid. Natasha reported quietly to Steve that they were basically inseparable now, and Bruce told Tony that even Jane was starting to feel left out.

Tony, for his part, mostly just thought it answered a lot of questions. He remembered thinking, back when they’d first seen Loki in the Sadida Kingdom days ago, that it was no wonder Thor had had such a hard time dealing with Crazy Loki. Thor had told Tony that he was over a thousand years old, and that Loki was only a few years younger, which by Asgardian standards made them practically twins. Now, watching them side by side, a lot of things Thor did which Tony’d always chalked up to Asgardian alien weirdness made sense. Like how Thor always sat a little off-center in his seat - it was because Loki would inevitably perch on the arm of the chair and lean against Thor’s shoulder. Or how Thor always swayed slightly to one side after telling a joke - it was because Loki would always be standing there and Thor could bump his shoulder against Loki’s. Little mannerisms built up over a thousand years together, like nothing any human could ever imagine.

And even if Tony could tell that there was still some tension between them - in how Thor looked abruptly guilty after teasing Loki, in how Loki hesitated when Thor tried to pull him into a conversation with Tony, Steve, and Natasha - he could also tell that things were improving even in just the one week. The way Loki looked at Thor like he was the sun itself, when Loki thought no one was watching. The way Thor checked automatically for Loki whenever he moved, as if Loki was simply a part of himself that needed to come with him.

They were doing it now, too: walking shoulder to shoulder in easy synchrony, and when Loki glanced up at Thor with that shit-eating grin still on his lips, Thor grinned back and bumped his shoulder against Loki’s. Lightly, though, careful not to jostle the baby sleeping in Loki’s arms. Loki said to Thor, “Don’t you think he’s a little young for talk of how children are made?”

“Aye,” Thor agreed. “Aesir children don’t get that lesson until they’ve reached at least their first century.”

“Don’t you dare,” Tony said, then had to glare at Bruce when Bruce snickered behind his hand. “I’m pretty sure I remember Thor saying he only recently became an adult by Asgardian standards, which means I am older than both of you and therefore get to tell you what to do. So explain to me how this whole thing works because that is _not_ biology as I understand it.”

“Maybe when you’re older,” Loki said, green eyes bright with glee, and Tony swatted him on the arm. Lightly, because while he couldn’t hit Loki hard enough to jostle the baby, hitting an Asgardian still hurt.

“I hate you both,” Tony said. “No respect for your elders.”

“Pouting isn’t exactly helping your case, Tony,” Bruce said.

“Ow,” Tony said, and put a hand over his heart. “You’re supposed to be on my side. Traitor.”

Bruce just smiled a little and turned to look at the path ahead of them where it opened into the Bifrost grove. The rain Evangelyne had summoned after their fight with Adamaï seemed to have kept the fire from spreading; the grove felt a bit more open now with the underbrush burned away but already new flowers budded around the base of the trees.

Despite the extra space in the grove, their group was enough to fill it: the Avengers and Loki’s family stopping at the base of the steps into the portal, while the World of Twelve natives gathered in a semicircle around them. Yugo stepped forward, his dragon brother Adamaï at his shoulder, and smiled at the Avengers. “Thank you,” he said. “This wasn’t your fight, but you helped us. You protected our world.”

“Anytime, kid,” Steve said. “And thank you for helping us get Thor back.” He held out a hand; Yugo clasped it and they shook with the air of dignitaries sealing an alliance. “Take care of yourselves,” Steve added.

“You, too!” Yugo said, grinning. Then, to Jahanna and Loki, he said, “We’ll see you in a few weeks, okay?”

Loki nodded; Jahanna said, “In a few weeks. Remember what I said about studying.”

“I know, I know,” Yugo said, but he was still smiling, and he waved at them. “Have fun!”

Everyone else joined in with a chorus of “good-bye”s and “take care”s; Tony waved and tried to pretend he wasn’t getting a little choked up. He’d only been here for two weeks, and he barely knew the Brotherhood, but they were good kids, and it was a little sad to think Tony would almost certainly never see any of them again.

Behind him, Thor had turned to the portal. “Heimdall, open the Bifrost,” he said, and a moment later blue magic swirled out from the center of the opening to cover the entire portal. Gold towers and blue skies glittered beyond the portal: Asgard. Natasha and Barton went through first, followed by Steve, Bruce, Jane, and Ragnvaldr; Tony followed them and finally Thor, Loki, Jahanna, and Tikalukatal, along with their children, came behind him.

They emerged onto the glittering expanse of the Bifrost bridge. A large golden carriage stood in front of them, drawn by two golden horses, and Heimdall in his golden armor stood beside the arch of the portal as the blue magic swirled away. His hand rested on the sword still slotted into the side of the arch, and his gaze was distant, but even as Tony watched it refocused and settled on first Thor, then Loki with the baby in his arms, and finally on the gathered Avengers.

“The All-Father and All-Mother send their regards to the Avengers,” Heimdall said to them, “though circumstances have prevented them from greeting you themselves. They thank you for coming once again to Asgard’s aid, and will send someone to discuss remuneration as soon as possible.”

“We appreciate that,” Steve said, “but no remuneration necessary. Thor’s our friend.”

Heimdall inclined his head. “I will convey your words to the All-Father,” he said. He turned back to the portal and twisted the sword in its slot. The Bifrost swirled to life once again, and this time Tony could just make out the glass and steel wall, the black helipad, of his tower back on Earth.

Steve turned to Thor, who stepped away from Loki and extended an arm. They traded grips and Steve thumped Thor on the shoulder. “Come say hi when you have a chance,” he said, then added, more solemnly, “It’s good to have you back.”

“It’s good to be back,” Thor replied, smiling. He waved to the other Avengers, then caught Jane Foster up in a fierce embrace. Tony couldn’t hear what he said to her, but it was enough to make her smile and blush. They shared a long, lingering kiss, then finally Thor let go and set her on her feet. “I’ll come by as soon as I’m able,” he said.

“You’d better,” Jane answered, smiling. She waved past him to Jahanna and Ragnvaldr, who waved back, then joined the Avengers near the Bifrost.

“Loki,” Steve said carefully. “Jahanna, Tikalukatal. Thank you. I know we’re not exactly friends, but, um.” He shrugged and smiled, not the Steve-playing-good-ol’-boy grin, but an actual, slightly bashful smile. “Thanks.”

Loki inclined his head as Heimdall had done, carefully formal. “Our thanks to you as well,” he said. Jahanna, standing beside him, nodded. “You are a credit to your people.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Okay, enough with the formality,” he said. “Everybody thanks everybody, team effort, great work. We got Thor back and stopped a war. Yay us. There, are we set?”

Steve snorted. Loki blinked for a second in surprise, then one corner of his mouth turned up in a faint smile. “Yes,” he agreed. “Safe travels.”

“Likewise,” Steve said. He turned to the portal and stepped through. The other Avengers and Jane followed him, but Tony hesitated.

“Hey, Loki,” he said, and Loki looked at him in surprise. “Look, uh. I know you’re going to be busy with the new baby and everything, but, uh. If you ever have time, maybe want to get away from diapers and midnight feedings or whatever, stop by the tower sometime. I want to talk to you about time magic and also get your thoughts on that Elia-reactor I built, maybe bounce some ideas off you.”

Loki stared at him for a long second in silence. His face was completely blank; Tony had no idea what he was thinking. But he could guess, so he waited, keeping his own expression open, patient. Finally Loki said, in a carefully neutral tone, “Thank you for the invitation, Mister Stark.”

“I mean it,” Tony said. “Seriously. Drop by any time, Jarvis’ll let you in.”

Thor was watching Loki now, and trying not to look like it. Jahanna just smiled, one corner of her mouth curling up knowingly, and touched Loki’s arm. Loki didn’t seem to notice either of them; he licked his lips and nodded. “Perhaps,” he said, and Tony decided to take that as the victory it was.

“Great,” he said. “I’ll see you around then.” He tossed them a jaunty wave and ducked through the Bifrost portal.

Pepper was waiting for him on the other side, the wind blowing her hair across her face; Jarvis must have let her know as soon as the portal opened and the other Avengers came through. She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him. He kissed her back, hard, suddenly more relieved than he could say to be home.

They’d done it. They’d rescued Thor and stopped the Mechasms and saved the World of Twelve. Tony had built a heart for an alien robot on a spaceship somewhere unthinkably far away, and had channeled a god’s magic to stop time. His head ached just from thinking about it, but Pepper was warm and solid against his side as she steered him off the helipad and through the door into the tower proper. The others were already leaving, waving and calling good-byes as the elevator doors closed on them, and Tony managed a wave of his own before collapsing onto a couch.

Pepper appeared at his elbow, a glass of wine in each hand, and held one out to him. “Welcome home,” she said. “It sounds like you’ve had an exciting time.”

“You could say that,” Tony agreed. He took the glass and Pepper settled onto the couch beside him.

“Tell me,” she said.

So Tony did.

*             *             *

Four months later, Tony was sprawled on the couch in the observatory examining blueprints for an upgraded Elia-reactor when Jarvis said, “Sir, we have a visitor.”

Tony squinted out the window to the helipad, where the blue circle of the Bifrost portal was just swirling closed. Loki Laufeyson stood in front of it, smoothing the front of his black vest in a gesture that almost managed not to look nervous.

Tony’s heart leaped. He hadn’t been sure if Loki would take him up on the offer, had been slowly losing hope with each month that had passed. But Loki had come after all. Tony grinned, waving the diagram away. “Show him inside, Jarvis,” he said.

Then he went to the door to greet his guest.

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand that's a wrap! Whew! Another novel's worth of writing down. I may post one or two angst/fluff short stories which can serve as tags or epilogues, but for the most part this saga is complete. Thank you all so, so much for sticking with me through two and a half novel-length stories; for all your kind words and comments and kudos. I've had a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you had just as much fun reading it! ^_^


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